The Anniversary Evolution
by April in Paris
Summary: A series of one-shots exploring how our beloved Shamy celebrate their wedding anniversary every year. Takes place firmly in my "Shamyverse," and reading of my Book Club series is essential. Also references my other stories. 100% pure, over-the-top fluff. SHAMYVERSE
1. Year One

_**A series of one-shots exploring how our beloved Shamy celebrate their wedding anniversary every year. Takes place firmly in my "Shamyverse," and reading of my **_**Book Club**_** series is essential. Also references my other stories. 100% pure, over-the-top fluff.**_

* * *

**The Anniversary Evolution**

**Year One**

* * *

Sheldon did not know that societal norms dictated the exchange of gifts for one's wedding anniversary until Penny had informed him a couple of days after Christmas. How odd. Wasn't the pleasure of spending the rest of one's life beside the only other perfect person on the planet gift enough? But he had just spent a month watching Amy slavishly following every Christmas ritual, and cajoling him to participate in most of them, so he knew this would be expected of him. There was not a single romantic superstition in the whole world in which Amy did not want to participate.

The month of January was spent in indecision. What should he get her? Penny had also told him the gift should be romantic, not practical. It should, in some fashion, be tied to their love or shared history or some such nonsense. He became so desperate he even asked for ideas from his friends, who proved to be as useless as he anticipated they would be. Then, one day, he opened a secret untitled document on his computer that he had been using to vent his . . . thoughts for almost a year now, and it occurred to him that all that overly emotional, illogical claptrap was perfect for Amy. It was just the sort of thing she would love. She would lap it up eagerly and probably cry. The more sappy and the more ridiculous, the better. He had discovered the golden ticket.

But now there was a different problem. And it was entirely of his own making. If he had been calm, cool, and collected that fateful day none of this would have happened out of order. This is exactly what happened when one doesn't make the proper plans, when one allowed their heart to run away from their mind.

Valentine's Day. How he hated that holiday! Oh, how he loved it! She was his, she was his, at last, she was his. His very soul had cried out for her, and her soul had become his. Things were whispered in the dark, between the brushings of skin, and he felt that he had found a missing part of himself deep within her. That night, unexpectedly, they pledged themselves to each other in a union stronger than anything he had ever known. They were soul mates, in every meaning of the words. Legal marriage, that was a mere semantic, a practical necessity for their mothers, for the insurance companies, for the bank, for society. Everything that needed to be said, everything that needed to be promised, everything that needed to be done, it happened that night.

Except . . . standing in the bland room, a stranger asking them questions, feeling Amy's hand tremble as she tried to slid the ring on his finger (another romantic superstition!), seeing the look in her eyes when she said "I do" . . . something else changed. This wasn't just a semantic, a practical necessity for their mothers. This wasn't just signing a form for the State of California, this wasn't just a thing all their friends seemed to be doing. His heart pounded in his chest and he knew this was just as great as the words whispered in the dark between the brushings of skin, this band of metal on his finger (oh, how he loved it!) was his way of crying out to the world "I am my soul mate's, and she is mine!"

Not that he would tell her any of that, of course. How absurd, he wasn't a hippy. But still the question lingered: the 14th or the 20th?

It was Amy, of course, who solved this dilemma, just as she always did. She was reading in bed, her eyes hungrily shifting back and forth across the page. When he got in beside her, she hadn't even turned to look at him.

Sheldon brushed her hair away from her shoulder and rested his cheek there. "What are you reading that is so engrossing?"

There was a pause before she answered. "_Love Letters of Great Men_."

"Is it that good?" he asked, smirking internally. _Oh, yes, my gift is perfect._

"Napoleon may have been a megalomaniac, but he certainly knew how to write," she replied. She put her Kindle down. "Do you ever wonder that if some of the most famous people had written novels instead of whatever they did, what those books would be like? What if Winston Churchill wrote a whole novel as good as his wartime speeches, for example?"

"I never thought about it. Do you not find our Book Club selections compelling enough?"

She turned to him. "Oh, no, that's not what I meant. I love Book Club. Just a thought exercise, I guess. There's plenty of love in our Book Club." She took off her glasses and pulled away from him to set them on the bedside table with her Kindle. "Sheldon, I've been thinking about Valentine's Day."

"Yes?" he perked up.

"Well, it's so close to our anniversary, it seems silly to go out and celebrate two nights in one week. How about we just stay in for Valentine's Day, since our anniversary is arguably more important? We won't make a big deal of it."

"We could have spaghetti with hot dogs and Strawberry Qwik again," he volunteered. "Yes, let's do that. It sounds like fun."

"Fun? You hate Valentine's Day."

"Mmmm," he leaned closer to whisper in her ear, "you've changed my mind . . ." Her earlobe felt like velvet and he brushed her skin . . .

Valentine's Day came, and Sheldon was awake earlier than usual. Now that the day was here, it felt wrong not to acknowledge it somehow. He slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Amy, and went to the living room. Her Kindle was on the island, and he flipped it open to read a paragraph. _Good, I'm not the first brilliant mind to dissolve into emotional claptrap. It's a good thing we only read fiction for Book Club or Amy would -_

He sat up straighter before getting up and going to his desk. He wrote them quickly, and then placed them all over the apartment. One Post-It on her toothbrush, one on her favorite mug, one on her hair brush, one on her glasses . . .

"I love you more than Lady Trent loved Jacob."  
"I love you more than The Doctor loves River."  
"I love you more than Mr. Rochester loved Jane."  
"I love you more than Marco loved Celia."  
"I love you more than Sherlock loved a mystery."  
"I love you more than A.J. loved Amelia."  
"I love you more than Lord Maccon loved Alexia."  
"I love you more than I love _Flatland_."

But she found the last one much later, after she had brushed his skin with so much love and they were late to work.

That night, after dinner and the movie, between the brushings of skin, he whispered once more, "I love you and you are so beautiful and you are more important than anything I have ever discovered and I feel like my heart is the Tardis it's bigger on the inside . . ."

* * *

Six days later, she surprised him in his office, holding a package and giddy with suppressed excitement.

"Amy? What's this?" he asked, coming around from behind his desk.

"It's your anniversary present."

"But we're celebrating tonight. I'm wearing a suit and everything. And I don't have your gift here."

"I know. There's a reason. Hurry, open it, you're wasting time." She thrust the package out at him.

He took it and opened it, Amy watching him closely. He noticed she kept glancing at her watch. "Wait, slow down," she suddenly said.

"But you told me to hurry up!"

"Don't slow down that much. Keeping opening."

Sheldon rolled his eyes and returned to opening the package. "A watch! Thank you, Amy, it's very nice -"

"Hurry, hurry, hurry, take it out!"

He lifted the watch out of the box and -

"Wait, hold still!" Amy's eyes were glued to her own watch, her other palm lifted in the universal stop signal. "Okay, when I say go, turn it over."

"Turn it over?"

"Go! Now! Now!"

Startled, Sheldon flipped the watch over. It was engraved: 31557600. He looked up at her, meeting her grin with his own. "The number of seconds in a year. And right on time, I presume?"

She hugged him right there, in his office, and, although he was mortified that someone would walk by and see, he hugged her back with equal ardor.

Later, after a fancy dinner, sitting on the sofa, he had presented his scroll to her. At first her brow wrinkled in confusion, but, just as he expected, she lapped it like a kitten laps up cream and she was crying by the end, happy tears streaming down her face.

"Oh, Sheldon," she whispered, and he pulled her for another hug.

By then it was 31,579,837 seconds. The best 31,579,837 seconds of his life.

* * *

**_If you haven't already read Sheldon's gift to Amy, it's my story entitled _Ramblings of a Neurodegenerative Mind: An Anniversary Present.**

**_I also include the same disclaimer I put on my _After Dark_ series: some will be serious, some will be funny, some will painfully short, and some will be mundane. Because that's life. Despite its faults, I hope you enjoy. Thank you in advance for your reviews!_**


	2. Year Two

**...**

* * *

**The Anniversary Evolution**

**Year Two**

* * *

It was her mother, as it so often had been her entire life, that put the seed of doubt into Amy's head. Amy was engaged in her obligatory monthly Skype call. Sheldon had already left the room after lying about how good it was to see his mother-in-law and saying, as he always did, "I'll leave you two ladies to catch up," before running away.

"Your anniversary is coming up. Have your selected your gift yet?" Mother asked.

"No. Sheldon and I haven't discussed if we're exchanging gifts," Amy replied. She was considering suggesting no gifts to him. He hated presents; and, after the wonderful gift Sheldon had given her last year, she thought she may never need another gift from him as long as she lived.

"Do you have any ideas? Do you need my help again this year?"

Amy frowned. That was not how it had happened. She already knew what she was getting Sheldon last year when she told her mother about it - and then only because she was grasping for topics of conversation - and her mother had disagreed on the engraving. "Just a series of numbers? That's too obscure. The average person will not understand that."

"This is not a gift for an average person, Mother. This is a gift for Sheldon," Amy had rebutted, and that had been end of the discussion.

"No, thank you, I'll think of something," Amy quickly replied this year.

"Let's think about this. I believe that the second anniversary is cotton or china. What could you get that is cotton or china?" her mother persisted.

"Mother, even if we do exchange gifts, we're not going to adhere to the traditional anniversary gift schedule."

"But you already have. You gave him a watch, which is really a small clock, and what was it he gave you, dear? A book or something? You were vague. Anyway, it was paper, was it not?"

"Yes, I suppose it was," Amy mumbled.

"Oh, I know just the thing! Nordstrom has the most lovely 800 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. Very high quality, you could use them forever. You could have a set embroidered with your monogram." Then her mother paused and frowned. "But you refused to change your name, so I'm not sure what your monogram would look like."

That was not how that had happened either. But Amy was tired of telling her mother that she had not refused to change her name. She just hadn't, because neither she or Sheldon saw the need. And the idea of giving Sheldon something with "their monogram" on it almost made her laugh. Instead, she took drink of tea to otherwise engage her mouth.

"Well, it doesn't matter. After two years, you're officially not newlyweds anymore, so perhaps the sheets aren't important."

Amy almost spit out her tea. "What?"

"Really, dear, you should not drink tea while hunched over like that. It seems I will forever be reminding you to sit up straighter. I was just pointing out that sheets are not so important after the second anniversary, when the . . . newlywed . . . phase has passed."

A smart retort on her tongue, Amy bit it back. (_How would you know anything about marriage? _But that would be going too far, the wound would be too deep.) More concerning, though, Amy could not decide which was worse: that her mother had just referenced her sex life, however obliquely, or that her mother thought it would be drying up like a prune. And why did it bother her so much that she officially wouldn't be a newlywed anymore?

* * *

She heard him coming down the hall, which made her realize she was frowning, and she quickly changed her expression. At first, she was pleased to see them arranged on her side of the island in a perfect square, thrilled with what appeared to be a new tradition:

"I love you more than Henry loved Cat."  
"I love you more than Darcy loved Elizabeth."  
"I love you more than Le Petit Prince loved his rose."  
"I love you more than Dorian Gray loved himself."  
"I love you more than Richard loved Elise."  
"I love you more than Paul loved dignity."

But then, without her consent or desire, her mother's words came back to her. _Why are they in a square this year? Why are they not scattered through the apartment, in a sort of savager hunt? _Did Sheldon think their love life would turn out to be square? Was it no longer a treasure worth seeking?

_No, no, I am being ridiculous. I should not let my mother get to me like this. I am reading too much into this sweet gesture of love. Obviously Sheldon couldn't mean anything by it; I didn't even tell him about that part of the conversation. I should be thrilled. Sheldon used to hate Valentine's Day, now he does this for me. Books, Valentine's Day, his love . . . what more could I ask for?_

"Amy?" Sheldon's voice shattered her bubble.

"Oh, good morning. Thank you for my notes," she smiled at him.

"What's wrong? Did I get one wrong?" he asked, his face covered in confusion.

"Nothing's wrong. I just . . . I don't remember us using the word dignity when we discussed_ The Green Mile_," she said quickly.

"I thought of it later, when I was analyzing Book Club in my mind. Maybe I should have brought it up again."

"I like that you ruminate on Book Club even after its over." This time her smile was sincere, and Sheldon smiled back.

"Of course I ruminate on it. You always say something interesting I haven't thought of before, and I need to give your ideas my full consideration."

Amy reached up for his face, and he met her halfway. Their lips brushed softly together, and then Amy thought about brushing the rest of his skin, and she pulled him in deeper. He allowed it for a bit, but then he broke away.

"If you keep that up, we'll be late for work," he said.

"That was the point. We were late last Valentine's Day . . ." she murmured softly.

"Oh, no, little lady, I've got important things to do today." He broke away from her to get the box of Honey Nut Cheerios. "Besides, we're not sex crazed newlyweds anymore."

It was like a thunder clap in her brain.

* * *

There was strange kicking sound at the door, and Amy opened it to find Sheldon's arms full with a box, the rest of the mail perched on top.

"Thanks," he said. "It looks like it's from your mother."

Amy sighed. "It's sheets."

"How do you know?" Sheldon asked, sitting the box down on the coffee table.

"I just do," Amy took the scissors he offered and carefully opened the package. She was right. A set of pristine white sheets. She took out a pillow case. Her mother was right: these were the softest sheets she had ever felt.

"What's this?" Sheldon asked, reaching out for the opposite end.

"Oh, no," Amy groaned. "Let me guess: ACS in a swirly font."

"No," Sheldon lifted it up for her to see. "FC" in, she was pleased to see, Copperplate.

"It's our monogram. I'm sorry," she said.

"Why are you sorry?"

"Because it's a monogram. You, especially, are not a monogram person."

Sheldon shrugged. "But your mother is. It's not so bad. At least it's a practical gift. Not like last year's."

Oh, last year's gift. Just as expensive, just as proper, but, yes, completely useless. Who had all their photos printed into 4x6 prints anymore? She had only printed Raj's wedding photo to put on her desk. And, of course, Sheldon never took photos. So the expensive leather bound photo album with gold gilt lettering sat empty on their bookshelf, never opened.

"Here," Sheldon said. "Give them to me. I'll put them in the hamper for Laundry Night. Your mother will kill you if you don't write a thank-you card right away."

Amy sighed once more before going to her desk and taking out the notecards with her monogram on the front. A gift from her mother. Of course.

* * *

She shifted on the sofa, her neck bothering her, not wanting to move Sheldon's arm. But it was too much, and he took his arm away. Then he picked up the remote and paused the movie.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing. I'm fine. I just can't get comfortable," Amy answered.

"I meant in general. Did you change your mind? Do you really want to get dressed up and go out to that French restaurant Raj told us about?"

"No, I'm fine. You would have hated it," she said.

"Amy, I would not have hated it. Not aloud. It's our second anniversary. It doesn't seem fair to you to stay in and watch a movie; especially since we just did this for Valentine's Day. You love going out to eat at fancy places."

"We already ate. It's fine," she looked away.

He sat up straighter. "In my two years of marriage, I have learned that when you say something is fine it is most certainly not fine. What's going on? Something has been bothering you all week. You even said you didn't want an anniversary present! Are you still mad about the sheets your mother sent? I told you, I don't mind the monogram. Tell me what's wrong. This is supposed to be a happy day."

"I'm worried that we're not newlyweds anymore, that the spark will go out," Amy blurted. "There, I said it, it's stupid, you can mock me now."

Sheldon turned off the television and turned on the sofa. "What are you talking about? What spark? Why should I mock you?"

"Traditionally, a couple is only considered to be newlyweds the first two years of marriage. So the honeymoon is over."

"Say's who?"

"My mother," she mumbled. Then, just as Sheldon's face was contorting into anger, she added, "And, well, you said it the other morning."

His mouth gaped open, and she saw his mental playback. "Oh . . . Amy . . . I . . . I didn't mean it. I was trying to be funny."

"I know! That's the worst part! I know it was just a silly little comment, but it's been bothering me! Because my mother basically said the same thing the day before."

"Let's leave your mother out of this. She knows absolutely nothing about our marriage. I don't care what she thinks. But you . . . I care very much about what you think." He swallowed. "Is this about love or sex?"

Amy shrugged. "I'm not sure."

He cocked his head. "It doesn't matter." He reached for her face. "Listen to me. I love you, Amy. I love you more today than that day we went to the courthouse together. I desire you more today than that day you dropped your Chapstick and I took you to bed. No one will ever change that, will ever take that away from us. Unless we let them. And nobody takes something from Sheldon Cooper without his consent."

Amy leaned in and put her head against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her. She felt stupid and foolish. She knew she was the luckiest woman in the world. Not only had the incomparable Sheldon Cooper chosen her to be his mate, but she was always thrilled to find the glimpses of a romantic soul lurking behind his gorgeous blue eyes and deep inside his brilliant mind. "I'm sorry, Sheldon. I've been a fool."

"Shhh, that's enough. Yes, you've been fool, but you're my fool. And it's over." He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. "Well, it's earlier than I planned, but I have a surprise for you."

She sat back. "A surprise?"

"I decided on a gift for you before you said no anniversary presents."

"Oh, Sheldon, I really didn't get you anything. Please, save it for my birthday."

"Don't worry, it's a tiny thing. And," he grinned, "I am definitely not waiting until your birthday." He let go of her. "Wait here." He scrambled off the sofa and down the hallway.

Amy sat and waited. And waited. And waited. "Sheldon?" she called after what she thought had been a very long time.

"It's ready now!" his voice called back.

She waited a couple of more moments. "Where are you? What's going on?"

"Come back here. It's in the bedroom!"

Amy's eyebrows rose, and she was already smirking long before she opened the bedroom door. And then she burst out laughing.

"Don't laugh! I already feel ridiculous! It seemed like a good idea at the time . . ." Sheldon said, grabbing a sheet to cover his naked body. Well, not completely naked; he was wearing a red bowtie around his neck.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself," Amy said, wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes. "What is this?"

He shrugged and blushed. "You like it when I wear bow ties. And I looked it up, year two is fabric. This is the bowtie I wore when I went as the The Doctor for Halloween. And there's James Bond . . . you always like him."

"I do, I do. I just didn't expect that! At first, I thought you looked like a Chippendale," she giggled again at the thought.

"You thought I looked like one of the chipmunks in _Rescue Rangers_?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

She laughed again, and then jumped on the bed over him. "I love laughing with you, Sheldon."

"It felt more like laughing at me," he said, but she saw the glint in his eyes.

Amy kissed him, and it quickly deepened. Her lips left his and she left a trail of kisses on the way to his ear, where she said, "Nothing will ever take this from us." Then she whispered for the second time in a week, "I love you and you make me glow with incandescence and you are an unsolvable puzzle and I cannot resist that and I want to unlock you every day for the rest of my life . . ."

Then she took him there, in that ludicrous bowtie, on those expensive monogramed sheets, brushing his skin with such ferocity it surprised even her.

* * *

_**AN: Thank you for your reviews!**_


	3. Year Three

**...**

* * *

**The Anniversary Evolution**

**Year Three**

* * *

Valentine's Day is not a holiday for the parents of a newborn. It passed by with nary a whisper, and most certainly no brushing of the skin.

They were trying to get Ada on a schedule, which was both more difficult and more simple than they had been doing it. This they discussed endlessly: the nuances of timing and order and balancing needs with wants. Then there was the thing they did not discuss at all, the morning four days prior that Amy had hit rock bottom and almost took Sheldon with her. By silent mutual consent, it would never be mentioned again. They would each live separately with the guilt of this black mark upon them: Amy for the things she had said, Sheldon for how he had stood with his forehead against the door, his hand around the door knob, fighting every demon he had ever known not to open it and walk out.

On the twentieth, Sheldon woke up with a start, well before the 6:30 feeding. He strained his ears, but all was calm and quiet. Amy was sound asleep next to him, and he would not wake her for anything. Well, maybe the Nobel Prize. He slipped out of bed and into the shower before trying to slip out of the house. He carried his shoes to the living room and was startled to find his mother awake, sitting on the sofa, knitting.

"Mom, what are you doing up?" he whispered.

"I could ask you the same," she replied, watching her stitches. "I haven't been able to sleep past six in years, so I knit. These are booties. Where do you think they've all been coming from? And why are you dressed and out here so early in the morning?"

"I remembered an errand I have to run. And do you just sit in silence and knit?"

"At home, I watch the early news, but I can't figure out your fancy TV. And what errand?"

Sheldon sighed. "I've told you, there's nothing to figure out." He took the small remote from the coffee table, pressed the large button on the bottom, and raised his voice slightly, "Siri, play Channel Four, volume low."

Mary jumped as the television came to life. "I don't like that, it's unnerving. You think this woman is your friend, but one day she will kill you in your sleep. And what kind of foreign name is Siri, anyway?"

Sheldon rolled his eyes and started to slip on his shoes.

"You never did answer my question. What errand is so important you have to run it at six in the morning?" his mother asked.

"Uh . . . going to buy cereal before breakfast. We're out," he said.

She looked up at him. "We both know that's not true. Don't try to lie to me, young man."

"Fine. I just realized it's our anniversary. I haven't got a single thing to give to Amy."

Mary smiled. "See, the truth is nicer, anyway. Get a card, women love cards." She returned to her knitting as he opened the door. "When she wakes up, I'll tell her that you went to buy cereal. You might consider bringing some home. One of the secrets to a successful lie is follow through."

He drove to the grocery store to buy cereal, debating what he should get Amy, what he could find so early in the morning on such sort notice. His mother's suggestion of a card was ridiculous, he had never once bought Amy a greeting card and did not intend on building her future expectation for one now. The best idea he had was a box of brownie mix that he could make for her, because she liked brownies and chocolate was supposed to be romantic, but he knew that was weak idea. He had just grabbed a shopping basket when he saw the sunflowers in the floral department. Yes! He choose the bouquet with the most perfect specimens, and then he saw the sign above the display: "Don't forget your bouquet card!"

_Well, one of the plain ones with the red border wouldn't be too much, would it? _He picked up the complimentary pen. But what to write? It needed to be something Amy would understand but that wouldn't be embarrassing, especially if his mother saw it. Suddenly, he remembered the recent forgotten holiday, and he smiled as he wrote the words.

His mother got up as soon as he came home, and, when she saw the flowers, she smiled and nodded at him. Behind her, on the sofa, was Amy, sitting and looking down at their daughter in her arms.

"Oh, good, Sheldon! I'm so glad you remembered the cereal!" Mary said effortlessly, and Sheldon envied her skill. "You know, I just remembered that no one went down to the get the mail yesterday. I'll be right back." She picked up the mail that she had, in fact, remembered to get the day before and went out the front door, patting Sheldon's arm as she went. Follow through.

"Yes, thank you for the cereal," Amy said, not looking up, still lost in the trance of motherhood. Sheldon didn't mind. He liked watching her. She was looking so much better now, more like herself. Even though she was still in her nightgown and robe, her hair was neatly braided and there were no dark circles under her eyes. Only in middle the night did the look of terror come back into her eyes, the one he had feared was permanent that first week home from the hospital, when Amy seemed like a feral version of herself. The schedule had saved her, and now he frequently caught her just holding and enjoying Ada for those precious moments that were all too brief. He felt a strange ache at the thought of going back to work on Monday, a regret he had never felt before at the thought of returning to his job. Maybe he should have taken a longer paternity leave, so that he could watch them together everyday, to see the look on Amy's face when she gazed at her baby. That look, it was so unique, so different from the loving looks she gave him, but there was no doubt that it was love. Motherhood looked beautiful on Amy.

Sheldon sat the bag with the cereal and the brownie mix on the island and walked over to the sofa. Amy looked up at him.

"Sheldon! Sunflowers!" Her face had instantly shifted to the loving countenance she reserved for him alone.

"For you. Happy anniversary," he said, suddenly feeling silly about the whole thing. But he leaned down to kiss her softly anyway. "Do we have a vase somewhere?"

"Oh, they're beautiful. Yes, there's the crystal vase Mother sent as a housewarming gift. But leave it for now. Sit with us instead."

He sat. "There's a card."

Amy raised her eyebrows. "Will you read it to me? My hands are full."

He nodded, feeling more ridiculous by the minute. He opened the little white envelope and cleared his throat. "Amy, this is strange, reading this to you. Maybe I should I let you read it yourself later."

"Please? I want to hear it. And your mother isn't here."

Unable to deny her, he stared at the words, even though he knew exactly what they said. He couldn't help but whisper them. "You make my heart feel like the Tardis."

He looked up sheepishly, to see Amy's beautiful face, shining so brightly at him. A single tear started to roll down her cheek, and he instinctively reached up to stop it. "Amy? Is that not what I should have written?"

"Sheldon, it's perfect. I'm so happy." She swallowed. "I'm sorry. I completely forgot. I didn't get you anything."

He leaned forward to set the flowers on the coffee table. He ran his palm over his daughter's dark hair, before tracing down her arm with his fingertips. Then, he gave her his index finger and she grasped it in her tiny hand. At the exact same moment, she released a small, contented baby sigh.

"That's not true," Sheldon said. "You gave me the best gift of all."

* * *

That night, the Post-It notes were on his bathroom mirror, surprising him. When did she have the time to sneak off and write them?

"I love you more than Bilbo loved the Shire."  
"I love you more than Laura loved Almonzo."  
"I love you far more than Catherine loved Frederic."  
"I love you more than Mary loved the garden."  
"I love you more than John loved Shakespeare."  
"I love you more than Poirot loved his little gray cells."

Under those notes, there was an extra one:

"You are an unsolvable puzzle, and I cannot resist that."

* * *

_**AN: Thank you in advance for your reviews!**_


	4. Year Four

**...**

* * *

**The Anniversary Evolution**

**Year Four**

* * *

They were on the oatmeal container that Valentine's morning, every bit of its label covered in yellow Post-It notes.

"I love you more than the rabbit loved the moon."  
"I love you more than Mark loved Earth."  
"I love you more than Gatsby loved Daisy."  
"I love you more than Hector loved Clara."  
"I love you more than Charles Wallace loved Meg."  
"I love you a thousand times more than those people in _The Notebook_."

The last one made her chuckle. It also made her heart ache with love, that Sheldon knew her so well. But time was ticking by, and they were already behind schedule because she had stayed too long in bed, leaving most of Ada's morning dressing to Sheldon. Even her rushed shower hadn't made up enough time. Amy gently removed the notes before setting them aside to make breakfast. At the stove, her back to the great room, she heard them coming first.

"Dadadadadadada," went Ada's morning song.

Amy turned to say good morning and then raised her eyebrows. Instead of her upright normal carriage, Ada was tucked sideways under Sheldon's arm, her shoes in his other hand. Not that she seemed to mind.

"Sheldon?"

"I going to put her socks and shoes on in here. The high chair will contain her. Do you have any idea how hard it is too dress her lately?"

"Not a clue. Because I'm not her mother or anything."

If Sheldon got the sarcasm, he ignored it as he strapped Ada into the chair. "She won't stand still. She wants to walk along the edges of the room, touching everything, holding on to everything. Today she almost walked right out into the hallway!"

"Well, genius, shut the door."

Sheldon glanced over at her, just before he bent down to put on Ada's socks. "I don't understand why she just won't let go. She can obviously walk. She's just afraid to let go, even though she's using only holding on by a fingertip. Why is she so afraid of change? She doesn't need to be afraid. Everything will be fine if she'd just be brave and let go. It will be even better."

"Maybe she gets it from you . . . " Amy murmured, not unkindly.

This time Sheldon looked at her for a second before a smile spread across his face. "Wellllll, maybe. But now I'm an expert at adapting to change."

Amy smiled back before turning to stir the oatmeal and put it in bowls. "Will you get the blueberries out?" The two bigger bowels went on the island before Amy sat the small one in front of Ada. She shifted her chair so that she could feed Ada between her own bites.

"Mama," Ada said

"Yes, good morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?" Amy asked, leaning down to kiss her head.

"Mama eat?"

Amy started. "Ada, what did you say? Can you say it again?"

Her daughter looked at her and then pointed down to her bowl. "Mama eat."

"Sheldon! Did you hear that? I'm positive Ada just expressed her first prevalent relationship using speech. That's almost six months ahead of the average shift in semantic development, even for females!"

Sheldon stood up straight, from where he was doing something with the blueberries at the island. "Why today of all days?" he moaned.

"What? I thought you'd be thrilled. You're always so worried about whether or not her cognitive development is ahead of schedule."

"I am thrilled. I'm thrilled for you that it happened to you. But," he tipped her bowl forward so she could see an almost completed heart made out of blueberries, "how can I compete with that?"

* * *

Returning from their anniversary dinner out, Ada was sound asleep by the time they parked the car, and, in the deep sleep known only by small children, she barely stirred as Sheldon unhooked her carseat and carried her to the elevator and up to their home.

"Do you think we should wake her for a bath?" he whispered when they shut the door behind them.

"No, let her sleep. She's probably exhausted. Bernadette said she chased Jacob around the house all evening," Amy replied, slipping Ada's jacket off her arms. "Besides, Bernadette put her sleeper on her already, anyway."

"Two children running after each other for hours? I'm sorry I missed it. And isn't it funny how she went immediately into running?" Sheldon asked.

"Well, she'd really been walking while barely holding on to something for a couple of weeks. As for the children running, you'll get to experience in Saturday evening. We're babysitting Jacob."

"What? Why?"

"Hush. I told you, we traded with the Wolfowitz's so they could go to Howard's cousin's wedding. It will be fine. Jacob can build Duplos with you, and Ada can't yet, and you like that," Amy warned, hanging up her jacket and Ada's.

"You're right," Sheldon sighed deeply. "I know it's my turn, but do you mind putting her to bed? I'll do it tomorrow."

Amy raised her eyebrows as this schedule deviation, but she nodded and took her sleeping daughter from Sheldon.

"My, what a big girl you're getting to be!" she murmured into the top of Ada's head as she took her down the hallway to her room. She decided that since Ada was already asleep, there was no reason to read a book, which was a bittersweet realization. But, tonight of all nights, she was pleased to have more time with Sheldon.

By the time she returned to the great room, Sheldon was sitting in his spot, a present sitting on the coffee table in front of him. He had removed his jacket and loosened his tie, and, with his dress shirt sleeves rolled up, he was at his most attractive. _Maybe we should just skip the gifts and go to bed . . . _

She smiled at him and walked across the room to their partners desk, reaching into the knee hole on her side to remove a moderately large, flat gift.

"Who should go first?" she asked as she sat down next to him.

"Is your gift to me involved?" he asked in reply. "It's very big."

"Involved? I'm not sure what you mean by that, so I don't know," she said, furrowing her brow.

"I mean, is it put together already? Or will it take time after I open it?"

"That's a very strange question. Yes, it's put together already. Why?"

"Well . . . I suspect my gift may involve some time. So I was going to propose that you open it last, so there is time for you to . . . enjoy it, hopefully." He shrugged.

She smirked. "Is it another bowtie?"

"No." Sheldon gave her an embarrassed look.

"More's the pity," Amy whispered. "Okay, I agree to your terms. Happy anniversary!"

He took the gift from her hands, and she waited eagerly for him to open it. He lifted it out of the box. "Oh. It's a canvas. I presume it's meant to be hung on a wall as artwork."

"Yes, it's artwork. I gave Stuart the picture, and he painted it for us. I'm sorry, you don't like it, art is not your thing." Amy's heart sank, watching Sheldon just stare at the painting. Sheldon loved Halloween so much, and he had put so much effort into their costumes this year, eagerly adopting the concept of a family costume even though he had always seemed to barely tolerate her ideas for a couples costume. "We don't have to hang it. I just thought it would be fun in the hallway or somewhere just for us to enjoy."

"I love it," he whispered. He looked up at her, finally, and she could see in his eyes that he really did love it. "I love the background, the way he painted the bridge of the Enterprise behind us."

Amy smiled at him, and they looked down at the painting together: Sheldon dressed as Spock, she was dressed as Nurse Chapel, and Ada was dressed as a not-to-scale Tribble.

Gently, Sheldon sat the painting aside. He cleared his throat. "It seems great minds think alike. Somewhat."

He handed her a smaller but equally flat package. Even before it was fully open, she said, "It's a book." Taking the last of the paper off, she looked down at the cover. It was pure white, and all it said on the front was _Year Four._

"Year Four?" She looked up at Sheldon in confusion.

"It's our fourth anniversary," he said, stating the obvious. "Open it, you'll understand."

Carefully turning the first page, Amy was met with a single photograph in the middle of a shiny white page. "Oh," it was her turn to say it. She didn't know which was more touching, the photograph itself or that Sheldon had it printed, given that he didn't want it taken.

"Did I make a mistake starting there? Oh, I knew I'd make the wrong decision! I debated for so long about what date I should pick as the starting point. It's just that so much has happened to us in February, but it seemed that if this was for our anniversary, then February twentieth was the logical starting point and -"

"Oh, Sheldon, I love it!" She threw herself at him, catching the surprised look on his face just before she sank her face into the crook of his neck. "It's perfect."

His palm rubbed her back. "You haven't even looked at the rest of it yet." A pause. "Here," he said, pulling away from her and relaxing back into his spot, "let's look at it together."

Amy nodded and turned to lean back into the crook of his arm. She looked down at the first page again. She loved that photo. Mary Cooper had insisted on taking it despite Sheldon's protests, and Amy had always been grateful to her. It was the morning of their anniversary a year prior, both of them sitting on the sofa, Sheldon holding Ada who really just looked like a blanket wrapped package, Amy leaning against him, holding the supermarket bouquet of sunflowers. They were smiling, even Sheldon.

"Our first family photo," she sighed. She corrected herself. "The first only you'll allow to be shown, that is."

She flipped the pages, commenting on them all, one photo on every page. "I think that was the same night, when you fell asleep rocking her." "Look how small she is here." There were a lot of photos that first month, mostly taken by Amy's mother-in-law. Not only because she the least sleep challenged, but because Sheldon had long ago learned not to fight her too much. Sheldon with Ada sleeping in her carrier against his chest while he worked at his white board, Amy holding her and reading to her, and a photo of both of them looking tense. Sheldon had a wet baby clutched to his chest and Amy was in front of him with a towel.

Amy laughed. "Her first bath after her belly button fell off. Remember how many ways we tried to get that towel around her? You were so afraid to loosen your grip on her!"

"She was so small and slippery! I was terrified of dropping her!" Sheldon protested.

"Yes, it was scary, wasn't it? My heart was pounding." Amy leaned in a little closer. "Aww, but look at the tiny baby bottom!"

Sheldon squeezed her shoulder as she turned another page. There a photo without Ada, just Sheldon and Amy looking at each other and smiling.

"Where did this one come from?" she asked.

"It was the first time we had everyone over after she was born. Remember, Raj was taking all those pictures of Ada and everyone holding her? He took this one of us," Sheldon explained. He lowered his voice. "I sent out an email, asking anyone who had pictures of us to donate them."

"But Ada's not in it."

"Oh." Sheldon shifted slightly and she turned her head so she could look him. "Is that a mistake? I thought this book should be about us, that one of us should be in every picture. I thought we could make another one about Ada together. There are lots of pictures of just her." He sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm not good at sentimental. I guess I thought that since it's for our anniversary it should be a celebration of our love for each other. We'll make a new one with all the pictures and get rid of this one."

"No!" Amy dropped her end of the book and put her hand on Sheldon's chest. "You're right. I love it. I love that you let your picture be taken so much this year. I love that you asked our fiends for pictures. I love that you made this for me. It's perfect."

"Really? You're not just saying that?" Sheldon asked.

Amy gently shut the book and leaned in closer to him. "When have I ever said something untrue to you to make you feel better? Never. I'm always painfully blunt, and you love it."

He leaned over and kissed her softly. "Maybe."

Amy sank into his warm, soft lips. And then she encouraged him to kiss her deeper.

But Sheldon pulled away. "We need to look at the rest of the book."

"How about we put it by the bed and look at it during intermission?"

"Intermission?" Sheldon raised his eyebrows.

"Yes." Amy stood, holding the book in one hand, while she put her other out for Sheldon. He took it and followed.

Before intermission, he brushed her skin and whispered, "You are more beautiful than the universe naked."

At intermission, they reminisced and giggled and got a little teary eyed over the book and even dozed a bit.

After intermission, she brushed his skin and whispered, "You are handsome and lanky and brilliant."

* * *

_**AN: Thank you in advance for your reviews!**_


	5. Year Five

**. . .**

* * *

**The Anniversary Evolution**

**Year Five**

* * *

All willpower was gone. The willpower to move. Sheldon was sitting on the floor, his legs bent up in front of him, his head leaning back against the front door. He had been sitting there for thirty minutes, ever since he had waved good-bye with extreme relief to the entire Wolowitz clan. He only turned his head when he heard Amy coming from Ada's room. She smiled softly at him as she approached.

"Amy," he said, when she was very close, "you know I think you're one of the preeminent minds of our generation, but even you have to admit that was a horrible idea."

Her smile spread, and she sat down on the floor next to him. "We were being kind. If we always just stay in and relax for Valentine's Day, why shouldn't we babysit someone else's children so they can go out? This way both Howard and Bernadette _and_ Penny and Leonard got to have a date night."

"But it was a disaster! Jacob was so hyper, which only results in him being a bad influence on Ada. Lucy is teething or something, she cried all evening. I spent all night chasing Fenny around - I honestly don't remember a crawling baby getting into that much stuff. And it all went directly into his mouth! Plus I didn't get to spend anytime with you, being together! I was refereeing and you were soothing and it was nightmare!"

Amy snaked her arm around his and leaned her head against his shoulder. "I don't think I'd use the words disaster or nightmare. Everyone calmed down when we put in the movie. Dinner was a hit; it seems your favorite meal is the favorite meal of preschoolers everywhere. And weren't you the one who just asked me a couple of months ago if I wanted more children?"

"I meant a child, singular. Not children, plural. Certainly not three more." Leaning his own head down to rest on hers, Sheldon said, "I don't want you to be sad."

"Definitely not sad. I promise." Amy sighed softly. "Shall we just go to bed? I feel like you look."

"But we have to watch _our_ movie! Disney's _Beauty and the Beast_ is not our traditional Valentine's Day film," Sheldon protested.

"I know. But I think we have to be mature enough to realize that Valentine's Day will not always be the romantic, quiet evening that we would perhaps want it to be in a perfect world. Traditions will come and go with time."

Sheldon's stomach sank. He did not want to lose their Valentine's Day traditions. He had learned a lot in five years of marriage, including the art of compromise and the need to just let some things go no matter how much it pained him; but this was not something he wanted to do only half-way. He also wondered if Amy thought he had forgotten something, if she was really just putting on a passive face, if she was subtly hinting that she was forgiving him for letting another tradition go. The idea of her disappointment rallied him, bringing the willpower back.

"Please, Amy?" he whispered. "We'll cuddle, and if you get too sleepy, I promise we can stop it."

Amy's head shifted, which caused him to raise his own head. She was looking at him, her eyes soft and full of love. "Okay. Shall I make tea while you get the Blu-ray out? Or is it on Netflix now? That would be easiest."

"No!" he shouted. Amy's eyebrows went up. "You get the Blu-ray out. Definitely the Blu-ray! Not Netflix! And you definitely need to be the one to get it, not me! I'll make the tea."

He could see that Amy was intrigued by his insistence, but she got up calmly and didn't argue. Getting up himself, he went to the kitchen to make tea, watching her the entire time. He loved to watch Amy move, the precise and sure way she performed her actions. She found the Blu-ray on the bookshelf, walked over to the player, and opened the case.

A huge grin spread across her face as she pulled the Post-It notes out, one by one.

"I love you more than Sir John loved Irene."  
"I love you more than Mr. Mansfield loved Jane."  
"I love you more than Ahmed loved Baghdad."  
"I love you more than Hans loved Leia."  
"I love you more than Henry loved Clare."  
"I love you more than Christopher loved Toby."

She almost ran toward him in the kitchen, throwing her arms around him. He squeezed her tight in return.

"You didn't forget," she mumbled into his chest.

"Please, Amy, I never forget anything," he said over the top of her head. "Especially something this important."

Later, the last words of _About Time_ ringing in their ears, they found they were not too tired, after all, to brush each others skin, not only with a slowness that had been learned in five years time, but also with tenderness and desire that had never lessened in five years.

"I love you more than science and my spot," he whispered.

"I want to swim in your blue eyes," she whispered back.

* * *

"It's snowing," Sheldon grumbled, watching the flakes fall in the fog. After all of the effort he had put into this fifth anniversary present for Amy, Mother Nature was going to ruin it for them.

The Smithsonian had a special Laura Ingalls Wilder exhibit, as it had been 150 years since she had moved with her family from Minnesota to the prairie of Kansas. He would have preferred to travel to Washington, D.C. in the summer, both for Amy's birthday and to avoid the possibility of any snow, but the exhibit would be gone by then. The National Museum of American History had been their first stop, and they had spent all of the day prior there. Amy had prattled off her knowledge and had glowed and grinned with excitement, and it had been wonderful. But now it was snowing.

"I just looked up the forecast. Two to three inches total, stopping about midday," Amy said from the table where she was finishing her room service breakfast. Then she said softly, as though she had read his mind, "It won't ruin our plans."

Sheldon turned from the view of his nation's capital spread before him to look at Amy. "But look how big the snowflakes are!" he pouted.

Amy smiled and got up to stand next to him at the window. "I think it's beautiful. I miss real winters with real snow. It was one of the best things about living in Cambridge. After a snow, the entire campus was so hushed and peaceful. Nothing is more beautiful than fresh snow on the trees. It's magical."

He rolled his eyes. _There she goes again, with all her sentimentality. _

"You love it when I'm sentimental," Amy said.

_There she goes again, reading my mind! _He didn't know which was more alarming: the mind reading or that she was correct. Before he could respond, Amy's phone chimed.

They moved swiftly to the table, and Sheldon could hardly believe how eager he was for the screen to fill with the scene of his mother's kitchen and Ada's face. Another concern he'd had about this trip is that Amy would not want a layover in Houston to pass their beautiful daughter off to his mother, even if it was just for a few days. She had tried to hide her tears when they boarded their second flight there without Ada, but Sheldon had seen them; he found his own throat incredibly tight, and he only succeeded in holding Amy's hand instead of thinking of anything reassuring to say.

"Good morning, sweetheart!" Amy beat him to a greeting. _Well, it's probably for the best. I'm not the sentimental one. _"Did you sleep well?"

It had taken Sheldon far longer than it should have taken a man of his IQ to understand this daily question of Amy's. This question was her way of reassuring herself that she had not passed down her night terrors.

"Yes," Ada replied. She was so adorable there, in her pajamas, her hair still rumpled, sitting on Mary's lap at the kitchen table. _Of course. She's mine._

"Are you behaving for MeeMaw?" Sheldon asked at the exact same time Amy said, "Are you having fun?"

Amy shot him a dirty look and he gave her one back. It was a valid question. No response came so Amy asked her again if she was having fun, and Ada just nodded her head.

"We're having a very fun time, aren't we, Ada?" Mary said. "Tell Mama and Daddy where we went yesterday."

"Museum," Ada answered.

"That's right. We decided that if Mama and Daddy were going to museums, we would, too!" She lifted her face up to look at Sheldon and Amy. "We spent the day at the Children's Museum of Houston. I was worried she'd be too young, but she seemed to enjoy it."

"Of course she enjoyed it, she's a genius," Sheldon said, and then frowned when no one replied.

"What was your favorite part?" Amy asked.

Ada shrugged. "It was too loud."

Mary explained, "We started out in the TotSpot, which was for her age, and she seemed to enjoy that just fine. Then I thought Sheldon would like it if i took her the sciency lab part, all this stuff about atoms and whatnot, but it was crowded. It may have been too much."

Sheldon raised his eyebrows. While he appreciated his mother's motives, he could not imagine that it was too much for his little_ homo novus_. It was clearly just over-simplified. "Ada, when we get home, Daddy will take you to see Uncle Leonard's lab and explain how it all works. Would you like that?"

The smile and nod that met his question warmed his heart.

"Ada, it's snowing here! Remember what snow is from some of the stories we read? Do you want to see it?" Amy asked.

Ada leaned forward toward Mary's iPad, her face filling the entire screen, her blue eyes so bright. "Yes! Snow!"

Amy picked up the phone and carried it to the window, and Sheldon turned to watch her. "Do you see it? How it's covering everything and making it beautiful?"

"Will you bring me some home?" he heard Ada's voice.

"No," Sheldon yelled out. "Snow is made of crystalline ice particles, so it will melt at approximately 32 degrees Fahrenheit. I refuse to be anywhere that cold." By the time he finished speaking, Amy had brought the phone back to the table.

"Too cold for Daddy, to hot for snow," Ada said.

Sheldon smiled. "Yes, exactly!"

"Thank you so much, Mary. I'm sure she's having a wonderful time," Amy said.

"No, thank you. I love having her for a few days. I love my grandsons, too, but, boy! are they rowdy! It's a real treat to have someone so quiet and calm and well-behaved for once. We haven't even had one of those T-A-N-T-R-U-M-S you warned me about."

"I was calm and well-behaved!" Sheldon protested.

"Shelly, you're too smart to believe that," Mary said.

Amy giggled next to him, and Sheldon nudged her.

"Okay, Ada, let's tell Daddy and Mama what we practiced and then we'll make chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast," Mary bent back down to look at the girl in her arms. "Ready? One, two, three -"

"Happy anniversary!" Ada and Mary said together.

Sheldon smiled at them. "Thank you. We love you."

"We miss you! Mama and Daddy will see you in two days!" Amy added.

"Two and half days," Ada said, holding up two fingers and struggling to bend a third in half. Sheldon beamed with pride at her insistence on precision.

"Yes, two and half, that's right!" Amy said, her eyebrows up. "Have fun!"

"Be good," Sheldon said.

There were good-byes all around and the screen went blank. Amy sighed. "I miss her."

"I do, too," Sheldon said, his voice timid. He still wasn't sure if he'd made the right decision; Amy loved to travel, but Amy also hated to leave Ada. Had she really been pinning away and putting on an act for him since they landed?

"But it's good for all of us. It's good for Ada to see how much we value each other, how important it is to us to spend time with each other, strengthening our marriage," she said firmly. Then her voice softened. "I'm having a wonderful time, Sheldon. It's just what I needed."

_How does she do that? _Sheldon smiled at her, pleased that her enjoyment was genuine. The light from the window caught the corner of his eye, and he turned his head to look. "Oh, no, is it worse?"

He got up to brood in front of the window once more, and Amy joined him. "It will be fine," she said. "We're taking the subway and the Air and Space Museum is all indoors."

Sheldon crossed his arms and sighed. "But it will be so cold. Too cold for me, as our little genius pointed out."

Amy put her arm around his waist. "You once went to the Arctic circle to perform experiments. I'm sure you can handle a couple of inches of snow."

"That's why I know precisely how cold it will be! We were so frightened of frost bite we had to sleep naked!"

"Well, then, how about this?" she rotated and wrapped her arms all the way around him, looking up at him. "If you go for a walk with me in the snow, we can come back here and sleep naked for warmth. And by sleep, I don't mean sleep. Then, later, you can decide if you still want to go to Air and Space."

Sheldon looked down at her green eyes and remembered how she had been mesmerized by the snow earlier, how eager she was to show it to Ada. Even before he said it, he regretted it. "A very short walk?"

Amy grinned with abandonment.

Against his better judgement, he dressed as warmly as he good (_three tee shirts!_), and they put on the coats they had bought just for the trip. And, although he wished his gloves were thicker, it wasn't even half-way down the block until he found himself feeling happier by the second. Darn Amy and her infectious joy! She was practically skipping down the almost empty sidewalk in front of him, actually twirling occasionally and talking and laughing and letting the snow flakes fall on her bright red cheeks and dark hair in the most alluring way. They leaned together for warmth on the way back, their breath visible and mingling in front of them.

Barely brushing her skin, he asked if his hands were too cold. Amy smiled in their igloo of blankets and told him no, she liked the sensation. Especially when he touched where she was the hottest. Finding just such a location, Sheldon had to admit she was right about the snow after all.

* * *

_**AN: Thank you in advance for your reviews!**_


	6. Year Six

**. . . **

* * *

**The Anniversary Evolution**

**Year Six**

* * *

"I love you more."

"I love you more!"

"No, I love you more!"

"Impossible. I love you more!"

"I love you a gizzallion!"

"I love you times a trillion to the tenth power!"

Amy yawned as she rounded the corner to the great room, her arms folded across her bathrobe, her hair tangled. "Not everything is a contest, you two."

Sheldon and Ada looked over at her, both of them in plaid pajamas, Ada standing in his spot on the sofa, Sheldon standing in front of her, now almost the same height, face to face.

"We're practicing," Ada said.

"Practicing for what?"

"Shhhhh," Sheldon said, and then reached over to his end table. "Here," he held something out to Ada.

Taking the offered item, Ada scrambled off the sofa and went running toward Amy. Her eye brows dipping in confusion, Amy bent slightly to take the small yellow note from her daughter and then read it as she ran away from her.

"I love you more than Mrs. Dalloway loved parties."

She looked up and smiled at Sheldon, and he met her smile, even as he handed Ada another note to carry across the rug. Amy took this one, too.

"I love you more than Mr. Stevens loved Miss Kenton."

Then Ada scampered over with yet another. "I love you more than Waverly loved chess."

Again. "I love you more than Don loved Rosie."

And again. "I love you more than Joanna loved the unknown."

The Post-It note relay continued. "I love you more than Dexter loved Emma."

Just when she thought it was over, one more yellow paper came her way, via Ada's little hand and pattering feet. "I love you more."

Amy looked over at Sheldon, still standing by his spot, watching her carefully as she smiled. "You're wrong," she said quietly.

"I doubt it. I'm never wrong," he said back, his eyes soft and full. Then he took a breath, turned his head, looked down at his mini-me, and said, "Who wants French toast for breakfast this Valentine's Day?"

"Me! Me!"

Later, in the dark, as he brushed her skin, Sheldon whispered, "I can't breathe without you in the room."

Amy brushed his skin back, and said, "I have loved you for so long, I can't remember a time when I didn't love you."

Then, together, they whispered, "I love you more."

* * *

"Don't tell me what you're feeding her for dinner; I want plausible deniably when Amy is outraged by the discovery. Bath time is at 7:30 - _sharp_ \- and lasts no longer than ten minutes. You dress her in her pajamas. Lately, there's been an unnatural love affair for someone of her certain IQ with that tutu Penny bought all the girls for Christmas; if she asks for it, explain the concepts of packing and not always getting what we want with us when we travel because of TSA regulations. However, do not veer into a tangent about weapons of mass destruction; her mother does not approve of that subject matter at her age. Brush her teeth after the bath. I know it's not immediately before bed, but we have learned via rigorous scientific testing it's the least distracting time. After her bath, we normally engage in some sort of educational activity. Don't worry, I've already written that off as a loss for tonight. So feel free to engage in whatever non-educational activities pass for fun down here on the fifth floor. Then, at 8:00 - _sharp! _\- she's goes to bed. You read one book only once, and one book only. She may try to persuade you otherwise, but remain firm. Amy has put the correct volume in her bag. Typical goodnight pleasantries are exchanged - only once, you'll have to be firm on that, too - and then you turn off the light and shut the door. She will wake up at 6:30 -"

"Really, Sheldon? We turn off the light to sleep? I had no idea. In India, the sun burns so hot it stays light all night long." Raj stood with hands on his hips, his face not exactly what Sheldon would call amused.

"I suspect that was sarcasm," Sheldon said, gripping Ada's little hand tighter as he stood with her just inside their front door, even though he could feel her getting antsy. Were Raj and Stuart up to the challenge after all? She may look like a normal fidgety three year old right now, but she was a genius!

"At least Amy has taught you one thing. And we've babysat before, so we can handle a sleepover." Raj shook his head and bent down to Ada's level. "We're going to have tons of fun and still manage to stay alive tonight, right Princess Ada?"

"Yeah! Let's start!" Ada yelled, letting go of Sheldon's hand to take Raj's. It felt like a stab through the heart.

"Amy has taught me many useful things. Including that you shouldn't call Ada that. Amy doesn't approve of inculcating young girls into the beliefs that princesses perpetrate," Sheldon said.

"That's rich, coming from a woman who used to wear a tiara every chance she got."

"Hey! She may be illogical, she's still my wife!" Then Sheldon paused. "And I've learned entirely on my own that there is no explaining the female mind. Trust the voice of experience, the tiara-princess connection in not an argument you will win. You should be glad you've decided to stop dodging the bullet that is a woman's version of logic."

"You can say that again," Stuart said, finally appearing from around the corner. "Hello, Miss Ada! Are you excited to be hanging out here tonight? Do you want to see the new finger paints I bought us?"

"Yes!" Ada hopped away from them, then, actually hopping after Stuart like a rabbit on the way to their kitchen table. Sheldon sat her bag down on the floor. _She didn't even say good-bye._

"I guess that's it, then. Thank you again. We'll come get her . . . mid-morning?"

Raj nodded and put his hands in his pants pockets. "Are you still going out? Amy looked pretty rough this afternoon."

"She's being very insistent about it," Sheldon replied. "She claims she doesn't have a fever. I intend to check it myself when I return upstairs."

"Well, whatever you decide to do, have a nice time." It sounded final.

"Thank you," Sheldon mumbled, looking over at Stuart and Ada, as he was already helping her put on a paint-splattered men's dress shirt over her clothes. Daddy, it appeared, was already forgotten. "Good-bye."

With a deep sigh, he turned to leave, smoothing his tie. He took a step out and the door clicked behind him. Yes, already forgotten. What was it his mother said when Ada went to stay with her in Texas last year? Leaving is always hardest on the parent.

A few steps down the hallway toward the stairwell and he heard the door open behind him again, and Sheldon turned just in time to see Ada flying out, running toward him, her arms outstretched. He crouched down quickly to absorb the force of her hug, only thinking at the very last second that he hoped there was no wet paint on that shirt to ruin his suit.

"Good-bye, Daddy," she said into his shoulder. "I love you."

It felt like his heart had just been shot out of a cannon of joy into the stratosphere. "Oh, Ada." He swallowed deeply. "I love you, too."

But then she was gone again, pulling away, running back to the funhouse that was Uncle Raj's and Uncle Stuart's where there were no rules and a dog and finger painting (he shivered at the very idea) and goodness knew what other unstructured craziness. But it was him she had ran down the hallway toward when she realized he was leaving without good-bye. It was him she loved. Sheldon sighed and stood and watched all three of them go back inside with a final wave. He would have never thought he could love someone as much as he loved Amy.

Shaking his head, he climbed the two flights of stairs and let himself into their condominium. "Amy, guess wh- Amy?"

His head swiveled, looking for her. He thought she would have been dressed and ready when he returned, as planned. The quiet was unexpected, and he walked with some reservation down the hallway. No, Amy wasn't in the bedroom, either. Then he hear a strong shuffling sound in the closet and he walked over to investigate.

Amy was sitting - if that was the correct term - on the floor, leaning against one the wooden partitions, her legs akimbo, one high heel on, one high laying on the floor.

"Amy? Are you okay? Did you fall?" he rushed to her side.

"It's okay. High heels are dangerous," she said, but her red nose was so congested she didn't even sound like herself.

"Here," he reached out his hands to help her up, and as she came up, she suddenly lunged forward into his arms. "Perhaps you should have taken off the other shoe first." Amy wobbled again. "I'm putting you back down."

Sheldon tried to lower her gently, but she ended up collapsing. He reached down and touched her forehead. "You have a fever."

"No, I don't. I feel fine."

"Yes, you do. You're burning up, your eyes are glistening and not in a come-hither way, and you can you barely stand." He crouched down to remove her remaining high heel. That was what happened after six years of marriage: Prince Charming has to help a very stubborn Cinderella remove her shoes.

"No, it's our anniversary. So I feel fine."

"Amy, those concepts are not automatically linked. You can be ill on our anniversary."

"No, I can't. We have reservations."

"We'll cancel."

Sheldon reached over to start untying the belt on her wrap dress (aubergine, this one was new), and Amy attempted to slap his hand but barely made weak contact. "No, we have a babysitter."

"Raj already postulated to me the possibility that you were too ill to go out and implied they would still enjoy watching Ada," Sheldon said, at last untying her dress and pulling the lengthy pieces away. Not the way he had planned on removing her beautiful new dress tonight.

"Traito -oo -oor - choooooo!"

Sheldon managed to duck just in time, and the disgustingly large amount of nasal mucus landed on Amy's hand. "I'll go get you a washcloth."

Returning with the wet cloth, he passed it over to his wife. She washed her arm and then looked up at him, as though she was going to speak. "Here, you've got some on your upper lip," he said, taking the the cloth from her. No, definitely not the way he planned his anniversary going.

After he had cleaned her face, he helped her pull off the rest of her dress and her bra. "Before I put your nightgown on, do you want some Vicks rubbed on your chest?"

"No," Amy shook her head. "I hate that stuff."

"But, Amy!, you used to sing its medicinal praises!"

She groaned and thumped her head against the wooden portion. What that meant, he wasn't sure, but he took it as a sign that she was still refusing. He went to get a clean nightgown and helped her lower it over her arms. "Come on, to bed with you."

She didn't protest as he helped her to the bedroom, lowering the blankets and pulling them back over her, and removing her glasses. "This pillow is so cool," she murmured, rotating to rest her cheek against it.

"It feels that way because you have a fever," Sheldon said. "I'm going to get some Tylenol for it and big glass of water, and then I'll come back and sing Soft Kitty to you."

"I hate that song!" Amy said halfheartedly.

"No, you don't, no one hates that song. You're just disappointed," Sheldon shook his head and walked to the bathroom, loosening his tie along the way. He thought Amy was was asleep when he returned, so he set the glass and the Tylenol bottle on her end table. Her eyes fluttered open.

"Sheldon?" she whispered.

"Yes?"

"I'll sorry I ruined our anniversary."

"You couldn't help it," he shrugged. "They'll be more."

"Thank you for taking care of me when I'm sick."

"I would tell you it's part of the Martial Agreement, but we don't have one of those." He helped Amy sit up and take the pills and encouraged her to drink, citing the need for fluids when one is ill. Then he tucked her back in, smoothing her hair away from her forehead.

"It must be love then," she said with an exhale and he could tell she had already dropped off to sleep, without Soft Kitty or the news about what Ada had said to him.

"It always was," he whispered back to his first love, his greatest love. He left the room on quiet tip-toes and went to cancel their anniversary dinner reservation.

* * *

**Thank you in advance for your reviews!**


	7. Year Seven

**As is often the case, this is a story told in two acts. Thank you to YlvaBorealis for suggesting a motif in the second act!**

* * *

**The Anniversary Evolution**

**Year Seven**

* * *

**7**

Seven in Arial Rounded MT Bold, lit from behind, inside the round circle. For a second, Amy pondered its meaning. Seven years of, well, what, exactly? Not being with Sheldon; they had dated for five years before that. Not telling him she loved him; that date rolled around every Halloween. Not being married to him, not legally; there were six more days before that anniversary. Seven years of being intimate. It wasn't the sort of thing one generally discussed in polite company. It was, in reality, probably only celebrated by them because it fell on another, more socially acceptable holiday. Wait, why was she thinking about it like that? Maybe it was Howard's quip about the seven year itch when they had arranged babysitting for their upcoming wedding anniversary. The itch for intimacy with someone new. Amy couldn't imagine that, not even for a second.

Then she shook her head to clear her mind, as the elevator doors were closing behind them, and reached out toward the buttons, 7 already lit. "We have to pick up Ada."

In one swift motion, Sheldon trapped her hand. "No."

"But Rajesh is waiting for us to pick her up. I'm sure he'd like some alone time with Stuart after the store closes tonight." She looked up at Sheldon's face, even as she elevator slowed and stopped, the ding announcing they'd arrived at their floor. Number seven.

Sheldon stepped out of the elevator and tugged on her hand gently. She followed, if only so the elevator door wouldn't injure them as it shut. "We told them it would be a late night," Sheldon said as he walked to their door.

"Exactly." Amy stood and watched as he fumbled with his keys in his opposite hand, not dropping hers. "The concert was shorter than I expected, so we're early. It would be a welcome surprise for them. So they could enjoy Valentine's Day, too."

"It was a shame it was so short," Sheldon said as the door swung open and he pulled her inside, the koala grin on his face. Like a kid who just got everything he ever wanted for Christmas.

Despite her confusion at his current actions, Amy smiled back at him. She almost couldn't believe it when she'd read the blurb about it. A concert of science fiction and fantasy theme songs played on the kazoo and ukulele? How bad would those songs sound? How much would Sheldon love it? But, when they arrived at the venue, somewhere they'd never been before, Amy had regretted her choice. The theater was tiny, run down, and smelled strongly of cigarette smoke despite the current laws. When Sheldon's foot got stuck in some gum on the floor on the way to their threadbare seats, she almost apologized, admitted it was a bad idea and she should have put more research into it, and suggested they leave. Why did she want to change their well-ingrained ritual of eating hot dogs in spaghetti and watching _About Time_?

But then, before the curtain even opened, the sound of haunting, other-worldly tones filled the air. Why did that sound so familiar? Sheldon had taken a deep breath, grinned, and leaned forward in his seat. "A theremin!" he whispered excitedly.

The concert was just as piercing to her ears as she expected - she preferred the smooth, soft tones of the harp - but Sheldon was adorable. He leaned forward the entire time, so focused, only turning to grin at her, even wider, between songs. She thought he would explode with excitement when Darth Vader's March started on the bassoon. He was the first to jump up and give a standing ovation as the small group took their bows in their tacky looking suits, and even the musicians looked uncomfortable with the unexpected accolade. Turning to her, Sheldon's eyes shone brightly as he said, "Where has this band been my entire life? This is the best Valentine's Day ever!"

Laughing, Amy had taken him home as he hummed the concert back to her in the car. His joy was so palpable, she couldn't even be slightly hurt that he thought it was the best Valentine's Day ever. But what was he up to now? Refusing to go pick up their daughter?

"Sheldon -"

But he pushed her against the shut front door. He kissed her, gently, which was surprising because of the push, and then whispered in her ear, "I love you more than Stanley loved Vera."

"You already -"

"Shhh." Another gentle kiss to silence her. The Post-It notes had not been forgotten; they were in a row down the middle of the hallway when she left the bedroom that morning. But this . . . ?

"I love you more than Leo loved Alma." Another kiss, firmer.

Quite frankly, she didn't care what this was anymore.

"I love you more than Alice loved waking up." With this kiss, he pressed his body firmly against hers, and Amy could fell just how much he was loving her.

"I love you more than Marie Curie loved science." Her mouth opened readily for his, greedy and searching.

"I love you more than Piggy loved making rules." His hand slide down her body, over her wrap dress, stopping on her hip as his fingers worked to pull up the hem.

"I love you more than Janeway loved breaking the rules." His mouth covered her's again, just in time to catch her moan of surprise as his hand slipped under the waistband of her panties. Thankful she decided against tights this evening, Amy arched closer to him, reaching down to start work on his belt.

So, on their seventh year, on the seventh floor, Amy let Sheldon brush her skin against the door with almost boundless passion. It was awkward because of their height difference and it was sloppy because neither of them were athletic. Their two pairs of glasses kept bumping into each other. But this was what seven meant to them: fervency, love, desire, gratitude, joy, impatience to share their love with each other, and each other only. Amy had an itch and only Sheldon could scratch it. And that was worth celebrating, every single year.

* * *

If she believed in karma, Amy would have been furious with it. After making Sheldon so incredibly happy on Valentine's Day, the universe should be rewarding her. Until this moment, she actually believed it was. She had wanted to do one of those artisanal cheese and wine tasting classes forever, but Sheldon had always refused saying it was "hoity-toity foodie Instagram preposterousness." First, she always told him she wasn't certain preposterousness was a real word, and then sighed and gave in. After all, Sheldon wouldn't drink the wine. And if Sheldon was miserable, so would everyone else in the class. It just wasn't worth the hassle.

But, the morning after Valentine's Day, Sheldon sent her a text at work, a silly formally worded invitation to join him at just such a class on their anniversary. She was gobsmacked. And thrilled. They would dress is some sort of cool, casual chic way, gather around a old wooden butcher block island, sample cheese and wine with other equally cool couples, and listen to a master - surely with an Italian or French accent - explain the heretofore unknown mysteries of cheese and wine to them. Even Sheldon would become a believer.

However, ten minutes in, Amy's daydreams were shattered. Instead of a reactant from the book _The School of Essential Ingredients_, they are sitting stiffly at uncomfortable desks in the sterile food science classroom of a local high school, and the harsh fluorescent lights were doing nothing for her new shade of lip gloss. Sheldon was sitting next to her, but there was no way she could snuggle closer to him as he finally admitted that wine was the nectar of the gods. Which seemed even more unlikely now. They were in the back row, where Amy had never once sat in her life, but the chairs were further apart back here and Sheldon wanted the leg room. And when would they taste the cheese? All the instructor had done for ten minutes was drone on about pasteurization in a monotone. Sheldon, Amy could tell by his wiggling, was beyond annoyed by the minor scientific errors the instructor was making in an effort to simply the explanations.

She turned her head until she caught her eye and she mouthed, "I'm sorry."

Sheldon shrugged and opened his mouth but then seemed to think better of it. He flipped the cover of the notebook in front of him - Amy had insisted they both bring one "to take notes" - and scribbled something. When he tore the page out, a couple of people near them turned around. Amy flushed but saw no choice but to take the note, now folded in his outstretched hand over the aisle between them.

**_Do you want to leave?_** it asked.

Amy shook her head at him. Sheldon put his hands up, a supplication for an explanation. Sighing, Amy opened her own notebook. **_It's so quiet in here, we'd cause a ruckus. It would be rude. _**Taking a breath, she slowly tore the page out along the perforations. Only one person turned around this time.

She watched Sheldon read it, and then he started writing again. Amy looked around helplessly. Why was he doing that? Didn't he know the sound of ripping was almost as distracting as their leaving would be? But when Sheldon tore his note this time, carefully following the perforations himself, she noticed that no one seemed concerned.

**_It's my fault. I should have researched the scientific and educational qualifications of our instructor prior to issuing the invitation._**

Amy picked up her pencil. **_No, I wanted to do this. I love that you asked. I just expected there would be more tasting and less lecture_.**

Another note. **_I told you we should have eaten dinner. _**She smiled.

**_We can go through McDonald's drive-thru on the way home._**

She saw Sheldon's eyebrows go up as he hastily scribbled a reply. **_Really? Only say that if you're serious. To do otherwise is cruel._**

Amy smothered a giggle and looked over at Sheldon as he wiggled his eyebrows at her. It occurred to her that she had lost all track of what the instructor was saying, despite the cost of this class, but she didn't remember having this much fun in high school. That's because she'd never had this much fun, she realized. She had no friends to pass notes to, and certainly no handsome boy with whom to misbehave. No, high-school-Amy would have sat in the front row, taking copious notes no matter how boring the lecture was just in case there was a single detail she would miss that might be on the test. In the front row, friendless and unloved.

On a whim, she wrote a new note. **_Will you be my boyfriend? _**Then, under it, she drew two little boxes and wrote next to one **_Yes _**and next to the other **_No._**

Sheldon's eyebrow went up as he read it, and she could tell she had genuinely surprised him. He looked at her, and she smiled and made a little check mark motion with her hand. Shaking his head in obvious confusion, he picked up his pencil.

**_Yes. _**Written next to it: **_Are you confused by the historical events of our relationship?_**

Amy smothered another giggle. **_Can I wear your class ring?_**

Another pause of confusion. **_I don't understand the parameters of this exercise. Nor do I own a class ring._**

A roll of the eyes. **_Come on, play along. Like we're in high school. Or we can listen to the lecture,_** Amy wrote back.

A grunt of amusement.**_ Do you want to go to prom?_**

Amy grinned. **_Yes! But tonight we could go cruising._**

**_I've never understood why that is considered a pleasant experience._** Amy put the note down and glared at him over the aisle. Sheldon shrugged back at her. Then he tore off another paper and wrote something quickly.**_ A movie?_**

**Dirty Dancing_? My mom won't let me watch it._**

She watched him carefully to see what he thought of the tense change.

**_I propose we make out under the bleachers instead, _**was his reply.

"Oh!" Amy dropped her pencil. Everyone turned to looked as she scrambled to pick it up. "Sorry, sorry. Go on. It's just that this class is so . . . exciting."

Her face bright red, she waited until everyone rotated in their seats again before she read the note one more time, certain she had misread it, and then looked back at Sheldon. He winked! The cutest boy in class just winked at her!

**_Am I dating a bad boy? My mom won't approve._**

**_I'm worse than if Danny Zuko was a member of the Jets. _**Amy grinned. Apparently this was a 1950s musical version of high school. Although, now that she thought about it, Sheldon had never gone to a 1990s version of high school.

Taking a risk, she wrote,**_ Second base?_**

Sheldon immediately set to work on his return note, and Amy watched him as he took longer than for any other previous notes. His pencil pressed hard into the paper with such force she feared it would snap in his hand. Had she crossed the line? Was he writing a forceful, reprimanding reply, that she should not be writing such things down for anyone to see, even as a joke? Amy's heart sank at her misstep.

But the page of notepaper that came back was a huge square, with big block letters in the center: **_YES._**

Even though she threw her head back with glee, she managed to bite her tongue and not laugh or yelp or make some other very surprised, very happy sound. Still grinning, she picked up her pencil. **_It's a good thing I wore a tight sweater._**

**_Don't think I didn't notice._**

Amy shifted in her seat. This was getting . . . intense.

**_Should we get cut out and burn some rubber?_**

**_And go where? Unfortunately, I doubt _Dirty Dancing_ is currently playing at any local theater._**

**_We could play it on Netflix and pretend the couch is the back seat of your hot rod._**

**_Can we cruise to McDonald's first? I'll throw in third base._**

Amy burst out laughing and then slapped her hand up to cover her mouth. "I'm sorry, so sorry. It's nothing. Just . . . cheese. Go on," she said to the glares she received.

"Um, we're actually talking about wine now," a woman two rows up said.

"Well, see, wine makes you do funny things, lady. It's called intoxication," Amy shot back. The woman grumbled and everyone turned around. Now she knew they had to either leave or stop it with the notes. But Sheldon was already passing her another one.

**_Are you going to kiss me with that mouth?_**

**_Yes. But first we're getting Big Macs, then cuddling on the couch while watching _Dirty Dancing_, and you're going to give me some serious over the sweater action. Let's floor it._**

Sheldon was up quickly, his long legs banging the desk in front of him as he stood. Amy put her hand out to him and squeezed between desks with him, as everyone turned around again and the woman who had said something earlier grumbled.

"I'm really sorry, everyone. We have, um, babysitter issues. This has been great. Really great," Amy blurted out in a rush as Sheldon pulled her out the door.

She held Sheldon's hand and ran down the dimmed hallway of the deserted high school with him, laughing along with him as lockers and sports posters whizzed past them. She was skipping class and with the cutest, baddest boy in school, no less!

* * *

Amy never saw the end of _Dirty Dancing_. Instead, there on the hot rod of their sofa, she was brushing Sheldon's skin and whispering, "I love you more than science and cells and books."

Sheldon brushed her skin in return and whispered, "You are grander than the Nobel Prize. You are oxygen and hydrogen and carbon and the rays of the sun."

They were having the time of their lives.

* * *

_**Among many of things YlvaBorealis writes better than me, one is zany, kooky, silly, recapturing-their-youth Shamy. For better or worse, I tend to write quiet, contemplative Shamy who think and feel things deeply and at length. You know, book people. So when YlvaBorealis suggested that she'd like to see Shamy at a cheese and wine class, I decided to not only use her idea but also to write a pale homage to her work. With an admittedly cheesy music pun to be the cherry on top!**_

**_So, thank you, YB, and thank to everyone for your reviews!_**


	8. Year Eight

. . .

* * *

**The Anniversary Evolution **

**Year Eight**

* * *

"Sometimes," Amy said even as she opened the door to their home, "I think that we take advantage of them too much, because they're just two floors down. But then when I drop Ada off, I see how excited Raj is, all these plans he has made for them to make Valentine's cookies before Stuart gets home, and I don't feel guilty anymore. Do you think that's bad?"

Sheldon, sitting in his spot on the sofa, Belle already curled up on his lap, the movie no doubt queued up and ready to watch, tilted his head. "You feel guilty about not feeling guilty about making Raj and Stuart happy?"

"Well, when you put it that way . . . You're right, they're crazy about her." Amy shook her head and walked toward him.

"That's because they have good taste in children."

Amy chuckled and look down at the coffee table. Not that she could have missed it, the giant number eight composed of yellow Post-It notes upon its surface. The ones she expected were there, of course, scattered between the extra blank sheets needed to compose the large digit.

"I love you more than Ada Lovelace loved mathematics."  
"I love you more than the little mermaid thought she loved her prince."  
"I love you more than I hated _Five Quarters of the Orange_."  
"I love you more than the unnamed Japanese protagonists loved their guest cat."  
"I love you more than Bagger Vance loved giving a lecture."  
"I love you more than Andrew loved humanity."

Smiling broadly, Amy said, "These are getting more verbose every year."

"We need to pick simpler books."

"Why the extra pieces? Just to make a large eight?" she asked, finally sitting down next to him on the sofa, and she reached over to scratch Belle's outstretched chin.

"Ah, look!" Sheldon leaned forward with eagerness. "It's no longer just the numeral eight. It's even grander and more important from this angle."

Looking again, Amy said, "The infinity symbol?"

"Yes, the lemniscate. Obviously. What the number eight looks like when you turn it on its side."

"Okay, so that's fun and interesting, but why do I feel like I'm missing something?" Amy turned toward him and wrinkled her brow.

"Don't you think it's interesting that society puts a lot of emphasis on various other anniversaries - first, twenty-fifth, fiftieth - when, in reality, we could all just stop counting at number eight because it also represents infinity?" he asked.

She sucked in her breath and stopped the first thought that came to her mind from coming out of her mouth. Loving Sheldon meant knowing that things that seemed perfectly obvious to him were not necessarily obvious to her. "Can you explain this concept to me further? Because," she swallowed, "I would like to think the you are not saying that after this year you never want to celebrate our anniversary or . . . this day ever again?" Finally an exhale.

"No! Amy, no!" Sheldon reached for her hand. "That's not what I meant at all. I love celebrating with you, and we can do it for, well -" he waved his free hand "- infinity if you want. I'm just saying that this year is the recognition of that infinity. We're forged together now, our lives forming an endless loop. Isn't that far more important and exciting than bronze or linens?"

Amy smiled and squeezed his hand. Why had her subconscious ever leapt to a false conclusion and doubted that something sweet and romantic was lurking behind this little gesture? He may be using science and math as his excuse, but it was just that - an excuse - to find another way to reveal his sentimental soul.

"That's lovely. But we gave up on the traditional anniversary gifts years ago. And I, for one, believed that we've been forged together for at least eight years already. Our infinity started ages ago," she said.

Sheldon paused and then nodded. "Yes, of course, you're correct. I'm sorry, it was just a silly little idea." He reached forward to pull the extra notes off the coffee table.

"No!" Amy reached out and stopped his hands. "Leave them. I love the idea, Sheldon. There's no one else in this world I'd rather be forged with, whether it was eight years ago or today. Or even beyond infinity."

He sat back with small smile. "You do know that's impossible, right? Technically, as infinity never ends, it's impossible to go beyond it no matter what Buzz Lightyear told billions of impressionable children."

"I love you, Sheldon. So much." Amy leaned forward and kissed him. "Shall we watch the movie?"

"I'd love to." Just a pause and then he said, louder, "Computer, play movie." Three quick chimes of acknowledgement and _About Time_ started. Amy wrapped her arms around Sheldon's and pulled her feet up to curl up and lean into him.

Although she always enjoyed this movie and especially it's meaning for them as a couple, Amy had already seen it at least seven times so she let her mind wonder. She turned her head to watch Sheldon watching the movie. If he noticed, he didn't respond. It was a such a small thing, really, watching this movie with him. Just as those Post-It's aligned on the coffee table were small objects arranged with a small action. And, yet, all these objects and actions and rituals meant far more than infinity to her. Just as Sheldon did. Still, after all these years, she loved watching him: the way he stood at his whiteboard, the way he moved his hands with flourish when he had an idea, the controlled way he moved about their home and through her life.

It wasn't just that he was handsome, although he certainly was. She loved how everything was so planned with care; he'd probably had the idea for the Post-It notes for months. She loved the way he talked, the cadence of his words, especially when he was making a point that he felt others had gotten wrong. She knew they had both changed and perhaps grown and matured with time - certainly, motherhood had been a huge wake-up call to her - but she loved seeing flashes of the man she had fallen in love with, despite all his faults at the time. They had had so many silly games and plans then, like starting rumors as an experiment. Some had survived with less frequency, like Counterfactuals, but some had fallen victim to time and a child and, at least for her currently, a busier career. She wondered if Sheldon missed any of those things, too. Even though the result had been far less than ideal, his enthusiasm for the mini golf field trip had been a joy to watch and get caught up in herself. Was that sign that he missed his little projects?

"Sheldon?"

"Hmmm?" He turned. "Do you want me to stop it?"

"No, it's fine." She shook her head. "I was just wondering, why don't you do _Fun with Flags_ anymore?"

His brows dipped behind his glasses. "What unusual timing for such a question. Well, as I'm sure you recall, we lost all the props and supplies in the fire and then Ada was born and . . ." He sighed. "I guess time just got away from us. We had to focus on Ada during all our free time for so long, and now your study is so important . . . " A shrug. "All our viewers have probably forgotten about it, anyway."

"Do you miss it?"

"Sometimes. But newer, better things have taken it's place, maybe."

"Maybe." Amy smiled. "Ada might be getting old enough that you could perhaps entice her to join you, if you want."

Sheldon tilted his head. "Are you saying you miss it? That you'd like to start it up again?"

"I don't know. It was just a thought. Maybe if you and Ada planned it and organized it all, I'd enjoy being a part of it again." Amy reached down to pet Belle's head again. She really didn't know why she's brought it up. But it _had _been so much fun.

"No, if we do it again, it should be just you and me," Sheldon said.

Amy looked up in surprise. "Really? Why?"

"It's our thing. Like Book Club." He paused. "But it's okay if it doesn't interest you anymore. As I said, no one is likely remember the show or the man behind it. Some things don't last for eternity."

Smiling softly, Amy nodded. There was the older, wiser, more mature, more pragmatic Sheldon. And he was probably correct. She snuggled up against him, and he moved his arm to go around her and pull her in closer. Yes, this was the bond that was forged to last forever, and maybe that's the only one that mattered.

* * *

It wasn't like her. In fact, it was so out of character for her that he was forced to ask if she was ill or if she had objections to the restaurant he'd suggested despite her previous agreement to calling and making the reservation herself.

"No, Sheldon, it's fine," she'd huffed, pulling up one leg of her stockings with, he thought, unusual slowness. "I just got behind. I got distracted with Ada, talking to her about my clothes."

It had become a treat for Ada, on evenings that Amy was dressing up for Date Nights, that she would be allowed into their bedroom to look at Amy's clothes and watch her put on her make-up and do her hair. Ada's obsession with clothes showed no signs of lessening, and, although there was no way she was wearing make-up until she was at least twenty, she loved touching all the little tubes and pots and bottles and hearing Amy tell her about them.

However, this evening, Amy had no clothes on yet, so he didn't understand from where all the distraction had come. Not to mention she'd never been distracted enough to be late before. "Really, just go ahead and take Ada to Penny's, and I promise I'll be ready when you get back."

"Amy, that's a waste of time -"

"Please, Sheldon, they're expecting her at a certain time."

There was something in her tone that told him that no matter how illogical and confusing the plan was, it was the new plan she had made and he would be following it. And he really didn't want to have a tiff with her tonight, their anniversary night. "Very well," he said, turning out of the bedroom and calling for Ada.

Later - much too much later, in Sheldon's opinion - Sheldon unlocked the door their condominium again, shaking his head at the absurdity of the wasted trip and resulting loss of time. And confusion as to what had caused the complete lapse in Amy's normally punctual nature. Now they would have to rush to make the reservation Amy had made for them, and he could already feel his fingernails digging into the dashboard of Amy's car as she drove at faster than normal speeds across town. _What a fine anniversary this is turning out to be_, he sighed privately as the door swung open -

\- and sucked his breath in surprise. Their home was unusually dark, lit only by candles on the coffee table and end table and surrounding the television. The smell of freshly popped popcorn filled the air and made his stomach growl. As his pupils adjusted to the dim light, he could make out boxes of Red Vines and what appeared to be slushies setting on the coffee table. And sitting there on the sofa, serene and beautiful and fully dressed, was his wife.

"Amy!" he called, dropping his keys in the bowl by the door. "What is all this? What's going on? We have a dinner reservation that we're almost late for!"

"I never made the reservation," Amy answered cooly and then he saw the corners of her lips turn up into her smirk.

"You never . . ." He didn't even finish and he took a step forward.

"While you were taking Ada to Penny's, I drove to the convenience store and got your favorite cherry flavor slushie, and it's still ice cold."

"Ice cold slushie . . ." He took another step closer to her.

"And there's Red Vines and fresh popcorn with real melted butter on it."

"Melted butter . . ." Closer he walked.

Amy's smirk changed into a very broad smile. "We're staying in, Sheldon, and watching a movie. It was my plan all along. It's a surprise."

"I don't like surprises," he said without thought or conviction.

"Yes, you do, at least when they're happy. And I think - hope - you'll enjoy this movie very much. Now shut the door and come join me." She patted the sofa next to her.

Nodding, Sheldon turned to shut the door he's left hanging open in his confusion and then he padded over next to her and sat down in his spot. "What are we watching? Oh, did you get an advanced screening copy of _Star Wars: The Legend of Yoda_?"

Dipping her chin to give him a look out of the top of her glasses, Amy said, "I'm your wife, not a miracle worker."

"Bootleg copy? I normally don't condone any criminal activity, but getting the new _Star Wars_ movie a month in advance might be an exception I'd make."

A chuckle. "No." A pause as she bit the edge of her lip. "However, tonight is the world premiere of_ this _particular movie."

Sheldon studied her closely. She was happy, yes, but proud, too, he could tell. Of this whole little scheme or something about the movie? And he thought maybe just a little nervous based on the lip biting. So much mystery tonight.

"So," she took a deep breath, "just settle in. Loosen your tie, relax. Do you want to take off your jacket?"

Sheldon shook his head, but he did reach up to loosen the knot in his tie.

"I'll set your slushie right here in front of you, and I thought we could put the popcorn between us. Tell me when you're ready, and I'll pass you the Red Vines."

"I still don't understand. We can do a movie any night of year. And why the candles?"

"Shhh, Sheldon. Just watch." Then, louder, "Computer, play Amy's video 'Life.'"

_Life? What does that mean? _Before he could ask, the screen came alive. There, in the very center of their sofa, sat Amy. Not dressed up as she was this evening, but she was smiling in her regular clothes. Sheldon couldn't help but be mesmerized.

"Hello. I'm Dr. Amy Farrah Fowler. Please join me this evening for a very special edition of " - the camera panned out (_So someone else had assisted her! Raj? Penny?_) and television-Amy spread her arms toward a poster board setting next to her, in Sheldon's spot "- _Fun With Flags_. Tonight's topic is 'Sheldon Cooper, This is Your Life!'"

Over the fake applause of the sound track, Sheldon whispered, "Amy . . . "

"Watch," she whispered back, and he heard her crunch on some popcorn.

"_Fun with Flags_, the brain child of the brilliant Dr. Sheldon Cooper, first premiered on Thursday, January 26, 2012. This," the television-Amy continued holding up a flag, "is the state flag of Oregon. It was the first flag that appeared on this esteemed webcast. Do you know it's the only two-sided state flag?"

"I did!" Sheldon called and Amy laughed next to him.

"However," television-Amy turned serious and put the flag down, "I think the fun facts that all our viewers really want to know is about the cutie in front of the camera, the wolf of vexillology, the heraldist of our hearts, and my own personal paramour of pennants, Dr. Cooper himself. So, in this very special episode, I will reveal all that makes him more special to me than another other person in the universe."

Sheldon took a sharp breath.

"Here," television-Amy reached forward and then back up again, holding a red, white, and blue flag, "is the state flag of Texas, where Sheldon was born. Did you know that Texas is called the Lone Star State because the official name for this flag is The Lone Star Flag? Also, the lone star was originally used to signify independence from Mexico. One of Sheldon's childhood accomplishments was -" the flag was switched to one with bowling ball rolling over bottles of beer "- to co-captain the East Texan Christian Youth Holy Roller Bowling League Championship team.

"At the age of eleven, Sheldon began a major in physics at the University of Houston." Television-Amy switched out to a white flag with a red crest of two animals in the center. "Fun fact, the official mascot for the University of Houston is a cougar named Shasta, but there are two greyhounds on their seal to indicate speed. The school motto is 'In Time,' as in 'in time, perhaps this level of incongruity will make sense.'"

He was so engrossed it took him a second before his laugh came in short, breathy bursts. "Well said, dear Amy!"

The video continued. "However, even the largest state in the contiguous United States couldn't hold all the brain power of our Sheldon, and, after graduating _summa cum laude_ with his degree in physics from the University of Houston and starting his first doctorate there, he traveled to Heidelberg, Germany to serve as guest professor at the Heidelberg Institute, affiliated with the Heidelberg University." Two flags went up, one in each hand. "The official German flag is considered black, red, and gold, not yellow. In November 1959, the Federal Court of Justice ruled that the use of the color yellow, instead of gold, had gained too much significance during the years of Nazi rule to be used in the national flag, and the use of yellow was ruled an offense." Television-Amy swirled her head toward the black symbol in a field of white. "The Great University Seal for the University of Heidelberg, however, dates from the original commission of the university in 1386. The central figure is that of Saint Peter and the two kneeling figures are believed to be Ruprecht I and his nephew Ruprecht II.

"After obtaining both his first doctorate and the Stevenson Award by the age of sixteen, Sheldon traveled to the great state of California." A flutter of mostly white with some red and brown. "The state flag of California was adopted in 1911 and features a California grizzly bear. Fun fact, one of the early precursors of the bear flag was designed by William L. Todd, a cousin of Mary Todd Lincoln." Television-Amy shifted. "This orange flag with two hands holding up a torch is not, in fact, from the 1984 Summer Olympics in Los Angles, but rather it's the official seal for the California Institute of Technology. Fun fact, even though Caltech has a multi-page website explaining how to properly use the seal, the history of the seal is never explained." Television-Amy shrugged and tossed the offending orange flag over her shoulder.

"Even though he obtained his second doctorate at Caltech, the powers that be recognized his greatness and offered him a job as a theoretical physicist, even though most academic institutions don't hire their own graduate students."

Television-Amy seemed to morph slightly, and Sheldon wondered if she was actually flushing or if they needed a new television until he noticed the woman on his screen smiled softly and ran her hands down her skirt. "On Monday, May 24, 2010, I experienced the life-changing moment of meeting Dr. Sheldon Cooper."

Sheldon heard the real Amy sitting next to him, watching this movie she had made for him, sigh softly. He reached over, above the popcorn bowl that he still had not touched, and took her hand, smiling as she squeezed back.

"At the time, I was working at the University of California, Los Angles. Here's their seal and flag. Yes, that's an open book. How original for a institute of higher learning, I'm sure it took months to come up with that symbolism." A hiccup of pleasure escaped Sheldon's lips. "A year and half later, this brilliant man introduced me to the joys of vexillology, when_ Fun with Flag _was born. What even our most faithful viewers may not have noticed was that, off screen, Dr. Cooper and I were falling madly in love. One of us fell a bit faster and the other fell so slowly it was as though he weighed less than a sheet a paper, but it was falling in love nonetheless. And, one magical evening in Napa County, California -" up went a flag with a cluster of purple grapes "- we shared the most amazing kiss that changed everything. However, despite this momentous occasion, I still can't get Sheldon to watch _A Walk in the Clouds _with me."

A slight grumble came from real Amy next to him, and Sheldon turned his head ever so slightly, no wanting to miss a second on the screen. After this, he doubted he would have a choice about watching some cheesy mid-nineties romantic movie with Amy again. More importantly, at this exact second, he couldn't wait to watch every movie she wanted for the rest of his life as long as she was by his side, holding his hand.

"Now, this is isn't a real flag or even a real seal," television-Amy said, holding up a cream flag with an illustration of dragon anatomy, "but this is the cover to _A Natural History of Dragons_, the first book we ever read together as part of the Fowler Cooper Publication Federation, which is still in existence to this day. Now this navy and yellow beauty -" a flash of fabric "- is the official flag for the city of Pasadena, California. It was in this city, where we both live, that on Halloween evening of 2014, that we declared our love for each other. I'm not even going to put this flag down because just three and half months later, a few short blocks from our apartment, we got married in this city's gorgeous City Hall. There are three great days in my life: the day I met Sheldon, the day I married Sheldon, and this day -" a flutter on the screen until there was a pale square emblem comprised of two letter H's "- the day I made Sheldon a father at our local Huntington Hospital.

"There have been other flags in our life, from happy to sad, but this last one is very special. And you, dear viewer, are the first to see it. I may not be Betsy Ross, but I have to say I'm inordinately proud of my creation." Television-Amy picked up and unfurled a large flag, mostly white with a large black lemniscate in the middle, surrounded by what appeared to be red words. "If you can't read it at home, it states, 'In our family, we are accustomed to glory.' That's a quote from another famous physicist, Irene Joliet-Curie. Sheldon once asked me to cross stitch it on a pillow with a new family crest. Well, Sheldon, it may not be needle work, but I hope this thermal transfer doesn't disappoint you."

Then television-Amy's eyelashes batted a few times and her voice lowered in that range it often did when she was trying not to cry. "On this day, at the edge of our infinity, even though I know you will tell me that infinity has no edges just as it has no beginning or end, I want you to know that the greatest glory of my life has been and always shall be sharing it with you."

It ended with a soft, loving, and satisfied smile before the screen faded to black.

Sheldon had rarely been in the position of being speechless before, and he'd certainly never admitted to it when it did happen. But sitting there, still holding her hand, the popcorn and slushie and Red Vines forgotten, staring at the blank television screen, he was speechless. Amy - his delightful, beautiful, forever surprising Amy - had created this for him. And he didn't know when or how she'd found the time to sneak away. The most logical solution was she'd left work and filmed it during the day some day in the past week, all without his knowledge. And what a surprise it had been! It was everything he loved about her: her sarcasm, her smiles and smirks, her sentimentality, her memory. But mostly her love for him. Sheldon felt like he was bathed in some sort of warm, soft glow of true contentment.

Finally, he turned his face toward her expectant one, still uncertain of what to say to her. There were not words for the way his entire chest was filled with this gentle and beautiful ache. "Amy, I . . .," he started and faltered.

"Here," Amy said softly, pulling her hand away and slipping it behind one of the throw pillows to pull out the same flag with which she'd ended her program. "You can hang it wherever you like. If you really want it as a pillow, I have more fabric to do so."

As he reached for the crisp white flag, the beautiful flag Amy had made for him, Sheldon felt something alarmingly like a tear prickle at the corner of his eye. "I . . ."

"It's okay, Sheldon," Amy said softly. "You don't have to say anything. Your silence tells me everything I need to know."

He nodded, tracing the red words with his thumb. Amy always knew, Amy had always known. Amy. She was infinity to him, a place without beginning or ending, a place he forever belonged. "The greatest glory of my life has been and always shall be sharing it with you, too," he whispered. Then he looked up sharply. "Did you really post this online?"

Amy shook her head. "No. It's a gift for you to do with as you please. If you want to post it, I don't object."

No. He wouldn't post it. He would save it on the cloud, his own private copy and when he felt the weight of the world more acutely or he found himself missing her while she was at a conference or even just some random morning at work, even the other side of campus being too far away from her, he'd watch it again.

"All I got you was my usual photo album," he admitted.

She reached out and gently touched his hand. "I love those photo albums. It's always the perfect gift."

Stretching forward, he carefully placed the new flag on the coffee table, before reaching back to take the bowl of uneaten popcorn to set next to it. Then he turned and put both of his hands on Amy's cheeks and looked deeply into those same emerald green eyes that had mesmerized him almost from the very beginning. No, there was no beginning with Amy.

"I didn't mean it, Amy. Or, rather, I had not fully considered the connotations and consequences of my statement. I want to celebrate every single year. I know that logic and mathematics tells us there is no way to enumerate infinity, but I want to die trying with you."

"Oh, Sheldon." His words had the effect of making her blush slightly and give that little bat of her eyelashes that Sheldon especially loved. "Our love will never die," she whispered.

"Never. To infinity and beyond."

Then there was the little chuckle in the midst of a happy tear that he so loved, and he leaned forward to gently kiss her lips. "Come to bed with me," he whispered.

In their bedroom, they gently peeled off each other clothes, brushing each other's skin softly, smoothing at first, taking their time to memorize it all over again. Sheldon whispered softly, into all her curves and valleys, "I love you and you give me tranquility and I love you and you challenge me to think harder and I never thought love could feel this good and you make me stronger and braver."

And Amy, his dear, perfect Amy for infinity, hushed back into his angles and plains, "You think you are only the right side of the brain, but I know you are also the left side of mine. You are always exactly who are you. You make me laugh, you make me happy, you make me angry. You make me braver and stronger."

* * *

_**Thank you in advance for your reviews!**_


	9. Year Fifty

**. . .**

* * *

**The Anniversary Evolution**

**Year Fifty**

* * *

It is the mornings that are the worst. Amy's eyelids flutter open and she shifts gently to determine if her hip is actually painful or just still asleep. It is a question she has had to ask herself every morning. First, because her hip has bothered her for years. She thought it was just routine oestoarthritis, but later it was discovered that the joint had been slightly misaligned at some point, most likely during childbirth. The many pains of new mother are so complex that she had not noticed it being more unusually painful than the rest of her abused body or her mind from exhaustion or her heart from holding so much love and terror at the same time. But, now, since her hip replacement three months ago, every day is better, although it is still often stiff first thing in the morning.

As she rolls to relieve the pressure on her hip, her hand brushes something crunchy on the blanket. Lifting her head, she picks up the piece of paper and smiles. This year, as he does every year, he thought of everything. Grateful yet again for her cataract surgeries, she picks each one up slowly from the line they are arranged in on top of the comforter. Six little pieces of yellow paper, one for every book they read together during the past year. No, that is not true. Now that they are both retired, they read many of the same books and discuss them at all sorts of various times. And yet, after all these years, every other month they still pick an official Book Club selection to discuss on the last day of the month.

"I love you more than Roland loved Maud." From _Possession_, a book Amy loved so much she had no sooner read the last sentence than she started it all over again.

Rolling all the way on her back to pick up the next Post-It, she realizes that she is being watched. He is sitting up, his iBar on his lap, throwing the holotext into the empty space above it, but he is watching her. She looks up at him, his eyes still so very blue. His glasses are gone unless he's reading for a long span of time, just as her's have been, thanks to the latest intraocular lens technologies. "Are you spying on me?"

"Gazing upon you. There's a difference." Still she blushes.

Putting his bar on his end table, turning off the hologram of text as he does, he does not say anything else as she reviews the last notes. She smiles up at him. "Isn't this late for you to be in bed?"

"I like to watch you reading them."

"This place is small enough you could have come in when you heard me moving."

"I am not a spry man of seventy anymore."

Amy chuckles. No, he will turn eighty-five this year. Eighty-five! She does not like to dwell on how old that makes her. Where have the years gone? As if to prove his point, Sheldon begins the slow process of lowering himself back into bed next to her. She is too surprised to ask why, and when he reaches for her, she happily rolls to put her head on his chest.

Sheldon strokes her hair, all white now, but still a few inches below her shoulders just the way he likes it. She braids it every day and usually wraps it into a knot as becoming her elderly status. But here in their bed, it remains loose. "How's your hip?" Sheldon whispers.

"Just still, I think, from sleeping. Some pins and needles, but no pain. It's getting better every day."

"Good."

Considering asking him about his knees or his back or his fingers, Amy decides against it. The ravishes of time have finally caught up to Sheldon, and his knees ache from carrying his height for years and his back aches from his poor posture and slender build and his beautiful long fingers are boney and forever chilled from . . . time. Still, though, she thinks he is the most handsome man she has ever known. Even now, with is his slow, slightly stooped walk, his hair is not completely gray, just salt and pepper. He complained about the cane Ada bought him after he fell on the ice last month, but he carried it with the aplomb of Fred Astaire in the two weeks before he insisted on throwing it in the back of the closet and forgetting about it. Amy knows that if she weren't present anymore, all the old woman in their retirement community would be lining up to throw themselves at him. The idea makes her chuckle again.

"What's so funny?"

"I was just imagining if you were a widower, how you'd have to beat the ladies off with that cane of yours."

"Amy!" He seems genuinely shocked. "Don't say such a thing!"

"What? You don't want to be fawned over?" She is still chuckling.

"No." He squeezes her firmly. "Not that part."

"Oh," she says softly and squeezes his hand back. No, she doesn't want to think about him dying, either.

She shakes off the thoughts of death. Yes, they are in their mid-eighties now, but other than a few relatively mild pains and her recent surgery, they are still healthy. There was brief scare when Sheldon had to take a nitroglycerin tablet for the first time last summer, but it was a false alarm caused by, it seems, a particularly controversial episode of _Nova_. Of course, she also has the hypertension/hypercholesterol combination of almost all senior citizens, but there is a pill for that. They still have all their mental facilities, and that is the most important thing to both of them.

Instead, looking around their small bedroom, Amy mentally plans her day. It is Valentine's Day, and there is some sort of silly party planned in the dining hall over lunch. They will skip it as that is just the type of thing Sheldon claims to hate, heating up something like soup in their tiny kitchen instead. Then tonight, she will make spaghetti with hot dogs. She even convinced Ada to let her buy Strawberry Qwik at the grocery store last week, appealing to Ada's weakness for her father, and Amy has hidden it away in her dresser of all places to surprise Sheldon with it. She has no choice; their apartment is not nearly as large as their condominium in Pasadena was, and he would find it in a kitchen cupboard. But they do not need the space. Every year, fewer of their old friends travel anymore or pass away, like dear Raj and Stuart, and even Leonard and Penny will stay in Ada's guest cottage.

It is not a complaint. As difficult as it was to down-size and as much as Sheldon fought it, they have settled in here nicely with all the other retired professors. Despite the winters they both have grown to dislike, Ada and Jacob and the grandchildren are close and that is all that matters now. Although they haven't recently because of her hip surgery, they also have the time to travel, and they have seen so many places, alone or with Ada's family. Even here in their new home there are so many activities: chess and game clubs, Lifelong Learning classes, sewing and knitting circles, transportation to all the theatrical and musical events, the list is almost endless. At first, Sheldon would go to campus every morning and putter around his office there, but the times per a week dwindled and eventually he gave it up. Now, he is content to take the bus to have lunch with Ada and a couple of her fellow professors at one of the cafeterias every Tuesday and they discuss science. Sometimes, if the discussion is especially heated, he will call and say he going to the physics department to continue the debate in someone else's office.

Mostly, though, they spend their days together here, just the two of them since their cats passed on and they decided they were too elderly to get more. And how much room do she and Sheldon need anyway? There is still no one else's company she prefers over his, even her daughter's. Not that retirement was not an adjustment for them as they were unaccustomed to the idea of idleness and to being in each other's presence all day long. They had to find new rhythms, but they had already perfected the art of being alone but together in a room. It was just a matter of timing.

And today, this most special day, they will spend it alone together, eating all their meals here instead of the dining hall. It is fitting. They spent that day fifty years ago together, too, never leaving the door of their old apartment.

"'Small enough to fit snugly into their hearts, big enough to protect them, beautiful enough to be a permanent touchstone as they got to know each other. Who are you, how would you, how do you feel, and what is the arc of your moods over an hour, a day, a few weeks? These things they discovered with ease in their heart-sized home,'" Amy quotes, relieved as she is every time she remembers something so well.

She feels Sheldon raise his head. "_The Little Paris Bookshop_?"

Amy rustles the Post-Its she is still holding in her hand on Sheldon's chest. "November, as I'm sure you remember. I was just thinking it was applicable both to our first apartment and to our current."

Sheldon rubs her back and says, "Fifty years today."

Smiling, Amy tries to burrow closer to him. "Yes. But don't tell Ada."

Next week, Ada has planned a fiftieth anniversary party for them, which Sheldon is already dreading and to which Amy is already looking forward. She even asked Ada to take her shopping for something new to wear, and they are going tomorrow. Amy hopes she can find something in the correct shade of green.

"What were you thinking fifty years ago today?" Amy asks.

"I was trying to figure out a way we could both do laundry and watch your little Valentine's Day movie. It was a Saturday, if you recall," he answers. "But I could tell you had a plan cooked up."

"A plan?" Amy says with a laugh. "You could have asked. I probably would have agreed. I was so nervous all day about making it too romantic because of how much you hated Valentine's Day and because of - well, I promised you no Amorous Activities."

"Not the first or the last time you defied me," Sheldon said.

"_Defy_ you? When have I ever taken orders from you? And you cannot tell me that you have forgotten that it was _your_ idea to go the bedroom."

"Hhmmpphh." But it is soft and gentle, and he angles his head to kiss her forehead. "You vixen."

Amy leans her head back further to met his gaze and they smile softly at each other. The party and the attention next week do not matter as much as they might; they are for Ada and their grandchildren, really. Today, as it always had been, is just their little secret. Even though they do not break their gaze, Sheldon brings a hand up to start brushing along her face, stroking her temple and down her cheek.

Of the ways he has brushed her skin over the years this is . . . one of her favorites. Not her favorite, but also not less than her favorite. She still remembers, with perfect clarity, those heart pounding moments in which his hands and mouth could not seem to get enough of her and the way her skin felt like it was on fire. Now, when they are intimate, it is slower and quieter and not so feverish. It's more carefully orchestrated, necessary bluntness about aches and ranges of motion having replaced euphemisms and pillow talk.

And yet, to be held and stroked so gently, to feel his fingertips upon her skin, to see his eyes looking down at her so intently, as though he's forever surprised she is still there . . . That still feels the same, that still causes the same sigh of happiness down in the very center of her soul. His fingers are so soothing, she wants to close her eyes and be lulled back to sleep. But she does not want to break his gaze. It is the same way he looked at her all those years ago, standing in their old living room, the lip balm lost and forgotten under the sofa -

"How is your hip? Can you make love?" he asks softly. Yes, it _is_ the exact same look. "Do you want to make love?"

"I thought we would tonight, after the movie, after we'd had time to warm up." There is no room for embarrassment now.

"We can," he is still stroking her face, "but I'm, uh, ready now."

Nodding and smiling, Amy says, "My hip feels good. Yes."

And then, there is a moment, when he brushes and kisses her thin and age-spotted skin with so much heat that she feels like she has caught fire, that she knows they will never get enough of each other, no matter how many years remain.

He whispers in the heat, "You are warp drive and the dark side and the light side of the moon at the same time and I think I'm going to combust and I love you so much, my Amy."

She whispers, just before her body pulses the way he has made if for fifty years now, "You set my lambic system on fire and you are green tea and lemon zinger at the same time and I want to go supernova with you and I love you so much, my Sheldon."

* * *

Although a different style, the shade of emerald green is close enough. Amy saw Sheldon spying in her while she was dressing after her shower, the pop of his blue eyes around the corner of the door and his shuffle away. When he returns, as she applying her lip gloss, he has changed out of his dress shirt and tie. Not into a Flash tee shirt, because he no longer owns one, but it is his red henley.

"I hope Ada isn't disappointed you didn't dress up for her party," Amy says with a grin.

"But you love it," Sheldon says, coming to stand beside her in the mirror, combing his hair before they leave. "Do you know what your blouse needs?"

"What?" Amy's hand flashes to her chest. She thought Sheldon would love this blouse. And obviously he has understood her, as he changed into his red shirt.

"This." He pulls the small black box out of his pocket and opens the lid for her.

A squeak is the only sound Amy can make at first. Sheldon has not bought her jewelry since her engagement ring, the one that actually came after the marriage. Then she manages to hush, as she bats the tears away with her eyelids, "Oh, Sheldon."

With a little quiver, Sheldon removes the pendant from its velvet bed. It is small, not flashy. But it is perfect: a tiny silver tiara dangles from the chain, each point sparkling with what must be a very small diamond. She watches him struggle with the clasp for a moment, and then she takes it from him. They chuckle that it takes both of them and Amy's strong magnifying mirror to get it in place around her neck.

"You shouldn't have. It's too much," Amy says, looking up at him so he can see the crown twinkle against her neck, Sheldon's hands upon her shoulders.

"You're still my princess." He leans down and kisses her. "Every day for fifty plus years."

THE END-ISH

* * *

**_Thank you in advance for your reviews! _**

**_Even though this is the end of this particular story, the Shamyverse as a whole is not finished. There is one more _Book Club_ chapter (_The Natural History of Dragons, Reprise_) that_**_**_ t_akes place after this**__**. Please enjoy!**_


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